


Our new start

by Actress20_Naomi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: .... physically, ALL THE FLUFF, Airplane Sex, BAMF John, Bottom John, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Complete, Crazy, Crime Scenes, Cute Ending, Depressed John, Fluff and Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am crying rn, Idiots in Love, Jealous John, Jealous Sherlock, John loving Sherlock to death, Johnlock - Freeform, LGBTQ support, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Married Sex, Military John, My First Smut, No Mary Morstan, No Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, POV John Watson, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock the hero, Suacide John, Tears, They both propose, Top John, Top Sherlock, Travel, cuteness, john and sherlock are idiots, keep reading!!!, new start together, no worries... no one dies, recalling the Empty Hearse, sherlock tries to speak Spanish, very funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actress20_Naomi/pseuds/Actress20_Naomi
Summary: After couple of years, John FINALLY has the courage to propose to Sherlock. He is going to do it in his favorite city, Spain, Madrid. John's expectation on Sherlock's reaction may not be what he expected....





	1. "...Welcome to Madrid..."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you!  
> Well, this is my first fan fiction, so don't kill me is its a bit... well, ermm... TRASH. We all have to start off somewhere, right?   
> Hope you like it.   
> (Also, open to feedback, thanks)

“Sherlock, love!” I shouted from the kitchen to the bedroom. 

“Do you want breakfast?” I asked while making tea, determined to feed my skinny, yet beautiful boyfriend. I raised my eyes and see his face on the frame of the wall, looking at me like I should already know the answer. I stop working on the tea, put my hands down on the table letting my head tilt down. 

“Sherlock! You haven’t eaten since yesterday! You must be starving.” I demand. We shared a look for five seconds then he broke the silence, “Fine!” he answered, and walked back to our room. I smile, “Thank you”. I turn around to finish the tea. When suddenly I feel two arms surrounding my waist and a face burying in my neck, kissing it, “For you, anything.” he whisper. My smile expands from ear to ear, already feeling the heat of the blushing. He quickly takes control, grabbing my hips and turning me around with extraordinary boldness it takes all of me to not pin him to the nearest wall. His smile reflects mine and when we meet in the middle, the softness and the rich flavor of his fine lips overtake everything in me. After a couple of heated kisses I can’t hold it any longer. I grab the front of his navy blue silk robe and pin him to the nearest wall. My body collapsing against him and when both of our groins touch, his head pushed back slightly against the wall, I kiss his offered neck. A soft moan escapes his lips and just when I’m about to move away to let us both breath, he starts to rock his hips against mine.

“sher... wait… wait.” I said, trying to catch my breath, but instead, he starts kissing down my collarbone.

“Sherlock, we are going to be late. Later I promise,” I say, cupping his face bringing it up. 

“But Jawn, please.” His voice shaking with desire. 

“Sherlock. I'm serious, later,” I say unable to sound serious. Cupping my hands to his perfect jawline, brushing his perfect, sharp cheekbones, bringing it closer to my lips and stealing a small peak. He takes one small step away, to roll his shoulder back and pull down his new navy suit, to gain composure. 

“Fine, but you promise as soon as we get there, you’ll be all mine.” He pulls me in, with the seductive voice he knows I can lose it and end up in bed, missing our flight to Madrid.

“Sherlock! Stop it we’re gonna be late, and I want this to be perfect.” I whine unable to look away from his lips. His eyes roaming all over my body. 

“Alright then, lets hurry to the airport then, the faster we arrive, the faster I can make you lose your mind” He loudly announced, racing to the bedroom to close my and his bag. 

“Ready then?” He asked, with one bag on each hand racing to the door. I grab his wrist softly and pull him back. 

“Sherlock!” I scoff a laugh, “You are eating breakfast today.” I insisted, walking pass him to serve the tea and scrambled eggs with some buttered toasts. 

“Oh, but we have time for breakfast?” He questions sarcastically. 

“Yes, we have time to stay alive today.” When I turn around with his plate he is already sitting down, contemplating at me, his eyes following my movement, with a bright smile welcoming me. We finish breakfast in only 10 minutes. We put our jackets on and start making our way down. When I put my hand in my pocket, I feel the small leather box I put in yesterday. A box full of promises. We find Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Have a nice trip, lovebirds,” she said, waving her hand in the air. I and anyone could notice the extra happiness in her face, ever since I and Sherlock got together. She is so radiant, that she also found someone to spend the cold nights with. Mrs. Hudson was the only one to know the plan behind this trip. She even helped me pursue Sherlock to take a break and agree to take this three-day “vacation”.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Take care, we’ll see you in three days.” I respond, making my way to the door. I turn around to wink her with a secure look and shake my pocket, which contained the box, her smile extends from ear to ear and claps her hands together in the middle of her chest. When I get to the street I find Sherlock already hailed a cab and opening the door for me. 

“Thank you, love.” I murmur. I got in and he went around the other side of the cab and sat next to me. 

“To London City Airport, please,” I said. The ride lasted about 30 minutes. When we arrived, I took the bags out of the back of the cab while Sherlock paid the cab. 

“Let me help you,” he said, grabbing his bag, which was way heavier than mine. 

“Alright, so first we have to get our boarding pass checked,” I said slowly, unable to hide a worrying voice as we walked to enter the airport’s entrance. “John, I know how to board a plane.” He assures me. “Of course you know, but I need your…. erm… well…” I stumble over my words, holding his hand a bit tighter, wanting Sherlock to argue against it. He looked at me with a confused look foe half a second. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce I was scare of flying, but I tried to keep it in, after all, I was a Captain in the army, I shouldn't be scare of this… anymore at least. After a minute of walking towards the boarding pass machine. Sherlock deduced out loud, “You are scared of flying, aren’t you?” and before I could answer, “Afghanistan or Iraq? Did you get hurt? Who else did? How did it happen? Who’s fault was it?” My mouth slightly open, to answer all his questions. In 30 seconds my mind played the multiple images I’ve been trying to erase for years. Which have actually began to ease out since I moved in with Sherlock. I gain composure and try to form an explication to his questions. 

“It was two years before… Afghanistan, It was a last minute call. Me, John, and Kevin were ordered to fly an UH-72A Lakota and attack some bomber ships that were out of their zone. They were great friends and the head of families. When we got in their zone, we didn’t those bloody ships. After a while of looking for them, we inferred that they left, and went back to their bases. But suddenly we were being attack by both sides. Bullets in the air and deafening blasting was all I heard.” I continued, trying to not break down right there. “They were next to me, Sherlock, begging for help… but I just… froze. It was the first time I saw someone die like that.” I finished, holding Sherlock’s hand a bit more tight than before. “Their blood was everywhere, their screams echoing inside my head. It was horrible.” Sherlock pulls my hand to the side, making me stop and look at him straightly.

“John…” He started to say but noticed the tear in my eye. All he had to do to stop the memories and screams, was to hug me tight. We remain there for a couple of seconds. I can feel people walking past us, and some of them looking at us, we honestly didn’t give one fuck. 

“I love you.” I finally manage to say. Reminding myself of the actual purpose of this “vacation” was not to cry about my past, ‘maybe when we come back’ I assure myself. I raise my face and tiptoe to reach his lips. Just like the first time, sweet, soft and welcoming. “I love you too John. I fall for you a bit more every day.” He says without any pauses. “All of your experiences and difficulties… I want to cure them, to make them go away.” He confessed, “We have all the time in the world, Sherlock, I will let you cure them, every single one of them. And if you let me, I want to cure yours too.” I answered, knowing that when we come back home, not only our scar will be cured, but our biggest desire. I look at my watch, coming back to the present world, and notice we had just an hour before our plane closes its door. Sherlock must’ve noticed it too, he didn’t say anything, we just continued walking deeper into the airport. It took like less than 45 minutes to go through security and get our bags set. We were now at the door of my nightmare, but I wasn’t alone this time. 

“Ready?” He asked, squeezing my hand to show me that I can fall on him and cry and have a mental breakdown anytime I felt like needed. I swallow, gathering myself. 

“Yes,” I answered after two seconds of starting at the door. I drop all my fears at the entrance of the plane and pretend its all good. Like I’ve been doing the past years.

We walked into the plane and there was a woman who wasn't discreet about her attraction to me and didn't have any control over the amount of flirting she was sending to me. I was waiting to feel the heat from the bush, but it didn’t happen, not until Sherlock was pushed towards me by the people behind him, and his groin pressed on my arse, then I felt the warmth in my neck to my cheeks and a bright smile grow. I walked faster, to find our seats. Sherlock behind me, probably already deduced most of the passengers. In the ten seconds that took me to find our seats, three girls across the plane winked at me and signaled with their fingers to go to them. I must have something on my face, for four women to flirt with me in so short amount of time. I grabbed Sherlock’s hand and raised it up in the air to signal everyone in the plane I was taken. 

Sherlock, which has been trying to hide his jealousy for the past two minutes, couldn't control himself any longer and said, "John if you don’t stop being so bloody gorgeous, I'm going to eat you in this plane. And apparently, all the girls on this plane seem to share the same though.” He said, nodding to the girls two seats behind us. 

“My eyes are only for you, and you know that,” I assured him with a small laugh while walking to our seats. 

“John, if I try to kiss you, please do stop me or I could really make a scene here.” He says, raising our bags on top of our seats. “Bold of you to think I can stop such amazing thing.” I answer back. I can hear a small laugh behind me, I continue, “Love, we're only flying for 2 hours anyway, I think we can make it.” I assure him, trying to convince myself too. I sat down, instantly closing the window and made ourselves as comfortable as possible, which means cuddling as close as we can. It didn’t took long for the plane to start raise. I can hear the screams and images come back. I start to shake, so hold I hold on tighter on Sherlock’s torso, like a scared baby. Without a doubt Sherlock felt it and got closer to me to cover me with his protecting arm. My are nerves relaxing one by one in his embrace now. This is the feeling I want for the rest of my life, and its a promise the box in my pocket holds. The plane is now in the air and I'm just snuggling deeper into the hug. Couple minutes pass and I’m starting to calm down a bit.

“John, this is probably bad timing, but you look awfully sexy right, now that you’re scared and vulnerable.” He said. I look up to him to see him looking down at me, his eyes roaming my face then lower and lower while bitting his lower lip. I didn’t need to let a word slip out of my lips. I raised my face near Sherlock and pushed our lips together, knowing how much he love kisses out of the blue. Sherlock’s breath was hot against my face, he starts to play with my lips and suddenly slides his tongue inside his mouth with a quiet moan. My entire body shivered at the first touch of our tongues. His hand was slowly, moving under my shirt, with the tips of his fingers moving inside my pants. I pull him closer by his neck, deepening the kiss. When my hand, starts to trace his most sensible spots in his chest, I swallow his moan. Knowing the whole plane could hear our erection getting hotter by the second. 

“Love you,” I whisper while parting our lips, so that we could calm a bit down, but failing. Needing to drop my fright of planes and craving Sherlock, our lips keep crashing together. Sherlock tries to lay me down in the seats, but it was a bit uncomfortable to fit together because of the hand rester between us.

“Bathroom. Now.” Sherlock orders, using the same voice when we were at the flat. The commanding, sexy voice that makes me want to fall on him and drive him mad. I raise my face to answer, but the words get stuck in my throat. So I simply nod. My erection is screaming to get touched, Sherlock without a doubt, noticed this, taking his hands out my pants to calm me down make me gain enough composure to walk to the bathroom. 

“No, wait… don’t stop” I manage to say, touching his arm, pulling it back to my stomach. 

“Like it? I can do this and you would lose your mind without me touching it” Sherlock whisper in my ear, licking the right spots. 

“Ohhh… re…really?” I say breathless but excited. 

“Who is daddy? Watson.” His voice stronger than before. ‘That's my line in bed’ I thought. I scoff a soft laugh and pull some inches away to say, “Well I’m usually daddy, but now due to my fright of planes…” I say pulling him in to the right spot, I know Sherlock will ultimately shiver out loud, and respond with the same determination in his voice, “You’re daddy.” With that, Sherlock drops me and runs to the bathroom in a heartbeat. I take a moment to pick myself up, ‘If you wanna make it to him, you have to pull yourself together’ I take a deep breath and stand up, looking directly to the bathroom. I try to skip the girls who were checking me out before looking, and finally make it into the bathroom. 

I open the door, to see only see a marvel sink, and a toilet. ‘Awfully clean for an airplane’ I thought. But the most important thing was missing. There was no deep, black curls, or the purple shirt ‘of sex’ as I like to call it. I fully enter the bathroom, closing the door behind me with the lock. Suddenly, something pulls me back, I gasped in surprise, it turned me around with so much power. 

“Sherlock….!” I started to say, but I was to close to his lips, to close to not kiss them. The kiss was sloppy but deep, much different from before. I raise my hand to his perfect cheekbones and brush them, breathing him in. When it hits me then: I'm going to have sex in a plane’s bathroom with the love of my life. If someone said I was going to be this lucky, I would’ve laughed, and told them to turn around and walk away. 

“Sherl…” I part the kiss. 

“We are crazy,” I said, laughing at my self. Sherlock reflects my smile and giggles. 

“I'm crazy for you,” Sherlock says, lowering his hands pushing me against the wall. He starts to move his hips, in the most delicious way. 

“Ohh….” I moan, letting my head trow back. I notice that Sherlock is been in control for too long. Not that I didn’t like it, but I want to make him lose his mind. So I attempt to pull myself together and push him into the nearest wall, with the same strength as him. Tilting my face to deepen the kiss. Licking his lips. My hands go form his shoulder, lower and lower. Moving my hips against him and pushing him closer to the wall. My hand goes to his shaking thigh and pull it higher, up to my hips, locking ourselves better. 

“Ahh..” He moans, pushing his head back, but pulling me closer. His delicious moans made my erection grow by the second. 

“Les…Less…Clothe.” He breathlessly said. 

“Yess,” I agreed, unbuttoning his tight purple shirt, without breaking the kiss. Going lower, dropping his leg down momentarily, just to unbutton his pants and reach for the lube in his pocket. I noticed he took it when leaving the flat, ‘My crazy genius’. By the time he is only in his boxers, I am only shirtless and his hands running through my chest, another shiver runs thru my spine. I brake the delightful kiss, only to make it better, kissing along his jawline and to his ear at the same time opening the bottle, with shaky hands, purring some on the palm of my hand. While the other hand finds his define abs, I pull back his thigh up to my hip. I go lower inside his boxers and pushes them to the floor.

“John..ahh” Sherlock moans when my hand wraps around his harden erection. 

“You feel amazing,” I say, surprisingly without pauses. I start to move my hand up and down. Starting with a semi-slow pace, mostly teasing, keeping in mind we were in a plane’s bathroom. One of Sherlock’s hand hangs from my shoulder, and the other on my waist, pulling me closer. The hand hanging on my shoulder, goes slowly through my chest once again, stopping to play with my nipples. 

“ahh…yes..” I moan under our kiss, with a small laugh behind it. He makes it better, by pushing my pants and boxers together down to the floor in one solid thrust. I fasten the pace of my hand. 

“No…wait..” Sherlock pants, pushing my hand away. I'm surprised at this, but excited to do what he wants. This has happened before, but it always leads to something even better. Sherlock, breathless, arches away from the wall, to stretch I suppose. He kneels down just a single bit, then jumps up and locks himself in my hips. I instantly grab him. Both of his thighs around me, locking me in. I can hold him for eternity like this. ‘God I love you’ I repeat in my mind. But my body is pushed back, so I turn around landing him in the spotless sink. Still kissing deeply, still lock-in, still in love, but the climax is increasing. 

“Ok?” I ask whispering.

Sherlock nods, taking a deep breath as I guide myself between his thighs. Sherlock shifts a little closer to me and I take him in. His back arches when the head of my erection slides in. 

“John! Oh god…. John!” Sherlock pants, eyes glancing to my face before looking down at my erection disappearing inside him. Sherlock keeps his own eyes fixed on my face, watching in awe as my emotions flash in front of him.

I push him back towards the mirror once I’m fully inside him. I start a faster pace as I kiss and kiss him everywhere again until Sherlock is the one rocking back. I smile into the kiss, forgetting about time or location, all that matter was to make Sherlock lose his mind. He loves the feeling of me sliding in and out of him. Clear as water when he begs and moans, “I love… you….John….more… please…”.

“John,” he moans as he bears down on his erection, undulating his hips tentatively until I find his prostate. “John!”

“Yes, yes,” I groans, “Like this.” I braces both hands again his back and begins to slam my hips up and down on my erection. Can’t help the moan and gasps escaping my lips, but Sherlock is making just as much noise. I can already feel my orgasm building when Sherlock starts to thrust up inside me, the sound of our bodies coming together echoing in the bathroom. 

“God! Sherlock, that was amazing. So fucking gorgeous.” I finally whisper, being the last sound to echo in the bathroom. I look at my breathless reflection in the mirror but get distracted to my gorgeous boyfriend, panting, hugging tightly on me. His perfect round arse and his legs wrapped around me. His deep, black curls resting on my shoulder. This is how we were, most of the time. He clinging on me, like a vulnerable baby, ‘My Baby’ I think. I look down at my watch, we’ve been here for 20 minutes. Delicious, magnificent 20 minutes. 

“I love you, John Watson, I don’t think I can ever stop loving you.” he murmurs to my ear. Both knowing it was impossible to stop. 

“Don’t ever stop saying that, please,” I respond begging. Kissing his cheekbones. “You are my whole world….my whole solar system.” We scoffs a small laugh at solar system. 

“I love you, Sherlock….” I say softly, and in a slightly lower voice say “…Watson.” That was the first clue. There was a sharp movement in Sherlock’s head toward me, tugging deeper into my neck. There was no way he could’ve heard me….right?. What seemed like an eternity was actually seconds, and when sleep was swimming between us, I start to softly shake Sherlock to check if he is awake, “Love, we have to go back to our seats”. He hums in response. “Let's get ourselves cleaned up and decent enough to go outside, ok?” I pull away from him, to get our stuff. “No, wait, come back..” he whimpers and stretching his arms signifying to come back. 

“Love, I'm not even a foot away from you” I laugh picking up his purple shirt and mine from the floor and go back. “What a nice view I had when you picked up my shirt,” Sherlock smirks and laughs. “Only for you,” I respond kissing his lips fast and soft. It took us a couple of minutes to get dressed and decent to go back outside. We opened the door, ready to fight anyone that starts to discriminate us. Even though we were used to that one or two people to discriminate us, we like to avoid them. I stepped out the door, looked side to side, taking note that the girls were asleep and several other people were too. Sherlock and I came out and tiptoed to our seat. 

“Wow, none,” Sherlock said, referring to the hatters. 

This time, Sherlock sat in the window and I next to him. I moved my hand between him and his elbow, resting my head on his shoulder. But still uncomfortable, still the rest arm between us. Like I’ve been talking out loud, Sherlock took out his phone said calmly said, “Don’t worry, I'm texting Mycroft so we can get into the first class seats.” 

“Why didn’t you call him from the beginning?” I ask, agreeing to his plan. Already texting Mycroft’s.

“Well, I wanted to make this our own trip, without any help from the queen of Britain” His sarcasm makes me laugh out loud. I can feel his laugh from my shaking shoulders. Some minutes pass and a lady with a navy blue suit came, “Mr. Holmes” she looked at Sherlock, “Mr. Watson,” turned her shoulders to me, “Your seat is ready, please follow me.” She ordered. 

“What about our bags?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about your bags, we’ll handle them,” The lady assured and started walking towards the front of the plane. We quickly got up to follow her. Once we started walking my balance started to betray my legs. I shift to the right and to the left, looking like a drunk guy. Sherlock, behind me, takes hold of my hips and straights me up, pulling me in just enough to gather my balance back, not dropping his hands from my hips. Once we entered the first class section, I was amazed by the high-class quality. There were actual beds with bigger windows thought, but with cubicles giving every passenger a sense of privacy. There were about five large cubicles and two small ones. While we continue to follow the lady, I noticed that this isn’t meant to be a silent first class section, but a chill, casual place where you could play your music and no one will scream at you to turn it off. We reached the semifinal cubicle, the lady showed us the usual use of the room. The lights, the window, the music, the TV, and the bed, nothing we could’ve figured out ourselves. She left, we thanked her and closed the “door”, the first thing Sherlock did is shut the window and arranged the lights to match the natural light from outside. I jump in the nicely made bed and land in between two pillows, I slightly bounced on the bed, making this two times better. Sherlock, who is now done deducing the whole cleaning crew, looks at me with the most warming, welcoming smile in the whole world. 

Without thinking I confess, “I love you so much,” it even took me by surprised when it came out of my lips.

“Are you aware say that out loud?” Sherlock sarcastically asked. 

“Not all the time, but I always mean it,” I confess. Sherlock responds with light blush in his cheeks and a lovely stare that stretches for minuter or hours, not sure. 

“So what do you want to do?” Sherlock brakes the silence. I sit up on the bed, patting my hand to space next to me, inviting him to join me. 

“Well, I had a couple of things in mind,” I responded while getting under the fresh sheets. Sherlock is taking out his jacket, throwing to the side. 

“Oh really? Like what?” Sherlock wonder. I laugh a little while he climbs into bed like a cat until he is next to me. His body trapped between me and my arm under his neck, pulling him closer. My whole body shifts to face him. He does the same and locks our legs together. Hugging each other as close as possible, our faces close enough to notice the smallest marks and wrinkles. Sherlock’s cheekbones are highlighting his face, with the natural light, his deep curls and absolutely everything beautiful in his face is remarked.

I continue the conversation, “Well, we can watch a documentary and then we can sleep a little and we’ll see where it leads.” I offer. 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sherlock assures.

“Really?!” I ask surprised.

“Yes. Well not in that order, but yea, mainly that.” I can’t contain the laugh and start laughing out loud with my whole body shaking the bed. I know Sherlock always cracks up when I laugh with my whole body.

“Well, what was your order?” I ask, curious about what he has in mind. 

“First, I want to cuddle with you for at least a couple of minutes.” He plays with my hair, continues, “Then, we could watch so TV” he brakes eye contact and nods towards the tv in front of us. “And then I'm going to kiss you everywhere. All the places I know can make you shiver out loud.” His low, whispering voice was incredibly seductive. 

“Sherlock, I think you are very aware, that if you keep talking like that, we are not going to be able to just cuddle.” I brake the sensual air and replace it with a calm, sweet, chill sent. 

“Alright, we’ll do it your way.” He responds, looking me deep into my eyes. We stay like this a while, until I start to feel sleepy. So I cuddle deeper into his arms. Resting my head in his chest, facing the TV.

“John, whats your favorite color?” Sherlock asks out of the blue.

“Navy blue. Why the question?” Surprised at the simple question. Looking up to his eyes.

“hmm, pillow talk.” Sherlock excuses himself fast. Looking down into my eyes too.  
“Pillow talk?” I was now shocked at this, “You do that?” I ask sarcastically. He pokes my ribs and rolls his eyes, with a small smile behind it. 

Sherlock asks a couple seconds later, “What do you want to watch?” Stretching his arm to the control on his bedstead next to him.

“Won’t matter. I’m going to be asleep in less than two minutes.” I assure him. I fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the constant comments Sherlock points out about whatever he was watching. I wake up, what seems hours later. Our roles switched, Sherlock now in my arms. I’m glad he is actually sleeping now because I’m not sure he would sleep in Spin as much. Without making much noise, I stretch to grab my phone in my pocket to check the time. Thirty minutes until landing. I turn my body to the stand night next to our bed to place my phone when I see my jacket hanging in the door. My eyes go to the pocket, where the box is. I calm down a bit when I see the box shape popping out. A smile grows in my face without warning. I turn around to Sherlock, so calm and beautiful, ‘God! How I love him!’ I say to myself. After some minutes of contemplation, I start to kiss his forehead, then nose, lower into his cheekbones. 

“Hmmm” Sherlock open his eyes and happily sighs.

“Hello gorgeous,” I welcome him with kisses trailing down towards his mouth. 

“John,” Sherlock has enough time to wispher before I brush my lips to his. Morning kisses are always the best, soft but hungry, desperate but sweet. 

“Sherlock, love, we are landing in thirty minutes. Alright?” I part the kiss to tell him. 

“Alright, ten more minutes.” He yawns and curls deeper into me. Not wanting to interrupt his oddly sleeping desire. I nod and start to bring his hair, in two minutes his breathing patterns settles and I know he is asleep. In the meanwhile, I think of a plan for this weekend, a plan to ask Sherlock to be my life partner. I smile to the thought and look down at him. I lost track of time thinking about him and the life changing question I’ll ask this weekend. When I come back, Sherlock is still in my embrace; I stretch my hand from his shoulder down, appreciating his biceps and curves. I get to his pant pocket, when I feel something bumpy. I try to think what this could possibility be, but nothing comes to mind. Just when I’m about to put my hand in his pocket, Sherlock hums and stretches in my arms. I quickly take my hand away from his ants to his shoulder. 

“Good sleep, love?” I ask quickly to distract him from the sensation of my hand near his pocket.

“It’s always good sleep when I’m with you” He responds with a genuine smile. It’s hard to not kiss him right now, Sherlock obviously feels the same because his mouth is   
crashing against mine. 

“How long do we have?” He asks looking around for a clock. 

“Around 10 minutes” I estimate. Some minutes later, the lady that lead us here, made an anausment that we will land in seven minutes and we should all return to our seats in business class. We gathered our stuff and went back to out normal seats. The landing was as nerve-wrecking as the take off, but again, all I had to do was hide my fear under Sherlock’s safe wing. Although the landing was a bit jumpy, I balanced it between being the vulnerable baby under his embrace and the Afghanistan survivor. My final nerved relaxed when the laud speaker announced, “Bienvenidos a Madrid.”


	2. First Day! (.5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my bum ass forgot I had regents week (a very important test) and I got behind some writing due dates, sorry again.  
> Well this is only the fist half of the second chapter.

“It's going to be hilarious watching you speak Spanish,” I comment while walking out of the airport, with our bags. Ready to order a cab, well a taxi, like its called here. 

“John! please, I know how to talk five fluent languages.” Sherlock answered showing off. 

“Whatever you say, love. But let me speak if you have trouble, ok?” I proposed, “…and how do you know Spanish?” Sherlock asks me, with a sarcastic and wondering tone. 

“I planned this trip, love, I’ve been ready. Plus, it turns out Mrs. Hudson knows fluent Spanish, so she also tutors me.” I confess proudly while waving my hand for a cab. 

“So, that's why she kept coming upstairs.” He realized I'm shocked that Sherlock didn’t figure it out. So I ask him, “How on earth could you not deduced that?!” But he just smiles at me and answers, “Of course I knew, but you said it so proudly. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” Puppy eyes glowing on his face. I smile and roll my eyes at him. A white taxi with a red stripe in the middle of the door arrives a couple seconds after. A men came out of the car as soon as he parked in front of us. Sherlock probably already deduced him from the second he took our bags and placed them in the back of the car. Taking us both by surprise, we stood there a bit confused at this gesture. 

“Ermm… Gracias” Sherlock said with an English accent. I scoff a laugh at his English-Spanish response and the face the driver does. He turns at me with a straight face and I stop laughing but continue sly smiling. The inside of the taxi is clean, with the documentation of the driver behind the seat. I turn to see Sherlock’s reaction, to see him smiling at the papers of the driver. I know why. 

“Did you get all correct?” I ask him when we are already sitting next to each to other, hands tangle together. Referring to the driver’s deduction he had scan compared to the information in front of him. 

“Yes. Except for his age.” He says with a sad end to it. 

“A donde van?” The diver pointed out we didn’t give him an address, sounds like he was in a hurry. 

“Hotel Westin Palace, por favor,” I answer quickly with the correct accent. The driver entered the destination in the GPS and starts to drive into the highway. Sherlock looks at me wide-eyed, at the name of the hotel. 

“Sounds expensive John. How are we going to pay for it? Cause Mycroft is the queen of Britain, not Madrid.” Sherlock’s sarcasm and worry make me laugh and love him more. 

“Love, remember this is my treat for us. Don’t worry, I already paid for it.” I assure him. Sherlock’s face shines with amazement, love, and wondering. He looked out the window and whispered under his breath, “Love you.” to himself or low enough to not be heard. But I did hear him. So I place my chin in his shoulder and lean into his ear and whisper, “Love you, too.” From my view, all I can see is a soft smile growing on one side of his face, and a soft shade of pink blooming on his cheek. I wait a couple of seconds for him to look at me so I could steal a kiss. He doesn’t, his eyes planted on the rising sun behind the majestic buildings of Madrid. I really don’t blame him, this city is filled with beautiful monuments and buildings, but I really want to kiss him right now. So my right-hand stretch to his other check and slowly make his face turns towards me. My eyes, which are waiting to see his fine lips, receive the same with Sherlock’s greenish eyes. My lips are more than satisfied when it gets to taste them. His body, slightly shifts towards me, taking advantage of this shuttle movement, I push him towards the window, kissing him deeper but calm, my hands going up to brush his cheekbones. Never breaking the passionate kiss. We may have lost track of time because when the driver pressed hard on the brakes, making us both lose the balance and almost falling in from the seat, we come back to the reality. Our laughs echoing between the windows and the perfect shade of orange from the sunrise made an automatic, permanent picture in my mind. One I will always have present. Wanting to enjoy the view, we just cuddle in together and contemplate the streets of Madrid. In less than ten minutes we arrived at the hotel. We sat up, Sherlock opening the door to get our bags and I paid the driver, thirty euros. I got out the car and a marveling view of a palace was in front of me. I was told this hotel was super expensive, but every night, they would treat you like a king. Mrs. Hudson said it was worth every penny, and bloody hell, it looks like it is. The entrance was busy, with hotel staff moving from here to there with piles of bags. A multitude of people with fancy clothing, with their pets and phones. The stairs are covered with a royal red carpet. Everywhere I look, there is a casual, elegant outfit. Not much different from London, but everyone looks healthier and brighter. Well, the temperature here is much warmer, unlike London. I took Sherlock’s hand and intertwine our fingers together. I feel the stare of the eyes next to me, but my eyes are planted on the architectural design and the organization of the furniture. Once the driver drove away, a hotel staff with a luggage cart, rushed to our bags. As a reflex, we protected out bags by coverings them with our hands. 

“Calma guapo! Yo te llevo las maletas a tu cuarto.” The guy said. The beautiful accent bounced in my ears. Sherlock and I exchanged a confused look at the fast, fluent Spanish attack. An awkward air hovers us for what felt like an eternity. I wanted to laugh, but Sherlock was reading the guy’s life story from his face. The staff member, finally! noticed we didn’t understand a bloody thing he just said. His straight-face pushed me off the edge and the next thing that bounced our ears was my laugh. I can hear Sherlock also laughing, and the staff member followed next. 

After a couple of laughs, the guy pulled himself together and asked, “You guys are not from here, are you?” 

“No, we are from London,” Sherlock answers fast, trying to sound serious. 

“Oh, well I said ‘chill handsome. I'm here to take your bags up to your room’ “ He said, and winked at MY Sherlock. The funny scent my air dramatically changed to pure jealousy. He clearly hasn’t noticed us holding hands, which made me even angrier. Before Sherlock could answer, I punch-in and say, “Look kiddo! Maybe you are blind, but he is forever taken!” My tone deeper and commanding. Sherlock’s face staring deeply at me, then to the floor on the word ‘forever’. On the other hand, the guy leans back and now stares at me, checking me out from head to toe. 

“Commanding…hmm… sexy.” He silently said. I was, even more, shook an I a can do is stare back with my mix of jealousy and surprise. At the silence, Sherlock looks up to find the guy eating me with his eyes. He didn’t hesitate, to turn me around, get hold of my hips and pull me into a deep, heated kiss. We brake up to see the guy’s reaction, but we must’ve been so concentrated in the kiss because he wasn’t there. He moved to another couple who just arrived. 

“Can you believe him!” Sherlock said in annoyance. 

“He almost leaves with a black eye,” I respond with sarcasm. 

“We can handle two bags anyway.” Sherlock looks at our bags and starts walking to the front desk. I follow his pull in my wrist. We quickly got our keys at the main desk, not wanting to talk to anybody other than my boyfriend. It took us about 5 minutes to find the elevator. 

“I told you, John, its that way,” Sherlock whined pointing to the other side of the hall. 

“fineeeee” I whine back. Dragging my feet to the other side of the hall, rolling my bag. When we finally made it to the elevator, we pressed the to floor 5. It was only me and Sherlock now. Sherlock said, out of the blue, “You still have it, love.” with a small smile growing in his face. I know he is referring to the guy that hit on both of us, in front of each other. I respond, “What a shame the rest of the world can’t get a taste of me.” I comment sarcastically, making Sherlock laugh. In the middle of his laugh, I look at him and say, in my most joyful way, “Your laugh is beautiful.” Sherlock, turns his whole body towards me and lay his hands on my shoulders, and simply plants a sweet, loving kiss on my forehead. The rest of the ride to the fifth floor was silent. But my favorite type of silence. 

The doors of the elevator open and Sherlock instantly says, “John trust me, it’s this way.” I laugh in response, knowing he doesn’t even know the floor plan of this hotel. But I simply follow his directions and surprisingly get to the door with the numbers 567, in a gold yellow font. 

“Ready?” I ask. 

“Yes,” Sherlock responds. I take out the keys from my pocket and insert them in the keyhole, making the end of every movement bold and funny. 

“Hurry!” Sherlock hurries me. I push the door to reveal the room; both our mouths dropped open. The bedroom was as beautiful as the entrance. The colors changed from royal red to a soft grey and white colors. The natural rays of sunlight, of 10 a.m cutting through the gigantic windows. The curtains divided perfectly to admire the view outside, three lamps in three corners, one king size bed, a TV, a sofa that turns into a bad, a small kitchen section. There was no end to the room, so we kept walking, until we found a glass door and behind it, a medium size pool, and a small jacuzzi bathtub. 

“John! We must get in that jacuzzi….naked… now!!” Sherlock excitingly says, jumping up and down, with the most delightful smile, dropping his bags in the middle of his excitement. I can’t contain my laugh this time, his ways of expressing his needs are hilarious. 

“Love, we have the room the whole weekend. I promise you we’ll have time to do that.” I say walking towards him, calming him down. 

“Oh, but John!!” Sherlock whines, dropping his shoulders down, making those puppy eyes I can easily be a victim of. 

“I promise, we’ll have wine and candles and…. no clothes of course.” I wink at him, making the promise permanent in the room. I casually turn around to pull both our bags on the bed with one sharp thrust. All I hear is the steps coming from Sherlock moving closer, slow but decisive steps. 

“John,” He whispers into my ear while grabbing on my hips. Before I could answer, he already made his way to my sweet spot on my neck, losing my sense of speech. “There are so many things I want to do to you in this bed.” Sherlock sensually says, leaving a small love mark on my neck. Leaving me some space to breathe, I gather my words together, to say, “God Sherlock, you really can’t control yourself, can’t you?” I let my head fall back on his shoulder, Sherlock is already pulling my tugged shirt out. He drops his hands on my hips, making me swirl around to face him, and before I could push myself to those fine lips, he says, “Not my fault, you are very tempting.” With that, his lips push me down, softly, to the bed. I tilt my head wanting to taste and feel as much Sherlock as possible. For some reason, in between the heated, loving kiss, an alarm wakes me up, telling me we are on a tight schedule and we should get going if we wanted to make the most out of this trip. With all the pain in the world, I broke the kiss, but Sherlock follows my lips, I have to kiss him softly with small kisses only. “Love, we are on a schedule, we have time for this later, I promise,” I say, under his eyes. Sherlock opens his eyes to me and with a realization and agreement stare, he kisses me less violently, calm and understanding. 

Slowly he stands up, and says in a lower voice, “I'm going to take a bath, alright?” 

“Alright, I'm going to continue setting our clothe up,” I respond with the same volume as him. Sherlock slowly disappears into the bathroom, mantling eye contact, inviting me with his eyes. But I decline the loving invitation with a sharp movement standing up and continuing unpacking our stuff. The shower doesn’t take long to start running. A couple of minutes later, our bags are unpacked except the clothes we are going to wear now. The shower keeps running, but I finish setting up. ‘Maybe I could join him,’ I think to myself. I walk towards the unlocked bathroom door; I’m about to open the door when I feel a variation on my pocket. My phone is ringing, I pick up. 

“Hello? Watson speaking, how is this?”

“Hello dear, It’s Mrs. Hudson. How are you two doing?” She asks. 

“Mrs. Hudson! Hello, is there anything I could do for you? I am sort of busy at the moment.” I respond, choosing my words carefully. 

“Oh sorry dear, I was calling to ask if you could bring me some muffins and some postcards from there.” Her voice bringing me back to 221B. A smile blooms to the though. My brain process the fact that she wants me to bring muffins, making me laugh. 

“Mrs. Hudson, you want me to bring muffins?! Do they have to be from here?” I ask softly but sarcastically. I hear her laugh from the other end of the phone. 

“Yes dear, they have to be from Spain, because well you see, my husband used to buy me muffins from there and they were delicious.” She exclaims, happily.

“Sure, Mrs. Hudson. I’ll bring you some muffins.” I say laughing at the favor. 

“Thank you, John!” She paused, “Oh dear, I have to go. Have fun you two.” She quickly says. 

“Goodbye, take care,” I respond calmly. The other end hangs up first, and the room goes silent. I haven’t even noticed but the water stopped running. I put my phone back in my pocket, and lay my hand on the handle, ready to open the door. But just as I am about to push the door open, Sherlock opens the door, revealing a surprised followed then a genuine smile. 

“Was gonna join you,” I say, staring at this space-color eyes. His smile grows bigger. 

“Sorry love, time is over.” Sherlock, playfully says. 

“Oh really? You sure, I can’t change that?” I ask back moving a bit closer. 

“Who was that?” Sherlock changes the subject. 

“Umm, Mrs. Hudson. Wants us to bring her some muffins.” I ask, separating a bit from him. 

“Muffins?” Sherlock asks, half laughing. 

“Yes. That was the same reaction I had.” I responded, also laughing. 

“Alright well, the bath is ready.” Sherlock makes his way past me and leaves the bathroom. Going directly to the bed, looking at his clothes, I had chosen out for him. My stare follows his movements and the amount of skin he is exposing without shame. Sherlock, without a doubt, felt my drooling state. 

“Want something?” Sherlock asks, sensually taking his towel off. But still covering himself. 

My throat is instantly dry. Words stuck in my throat but manage to say, “Sherlock…love, don’t make me come at you.” I warn him. Before he can answer, I feel my erection pressuring against my pants. 

“I’m not doing anything, love. Just getting dressed.” Sherlock continues to slowly and carefully say. 

“You know what, I’m just going to take a bath. But when I come back…we’ll talk.” My voice betrays me, making me sound shaky. I entered the bathroom in a heartbeat, I can hear Sherlock laugh outside. The bathroom is amazing, large, clean and fancy. ‘wow,’ I whisper, looking around to every detail. Closing the door behind me, leaving unlock. ‘just in case’ I think. Knowing Sherlock may be timing my shower, I take my clothes off and enter the bath under ten seconds. The warm water relaxes my muscles and lets my brain relax from the nervousness of proposing. I take no longer than seven minutes, getting a white towel from the hanging bar. I step out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel around my waist. Sherlock is in the balcony staring outside, with his hands in his mind palace position staring into the busy street. Walking towards him at a slow pace, wanting to know what is going on inside that brilliant mind of his. I open the glass doors of the balcony, without him noticing I direct my lips to his cheek, landing a soft, sweet kiss. Sherlock’s hand's brakes form his normal position, moving to wrap them around my face, holding my face in place. Small kisses everywhere along with uncontrollable smiles here and there. 

Under the sweet kisses, I whisper, “Be ready in 10. Alright?”

“Alright, captain.” He responds. Breaking the kisses, I make my way to the room again, looking in my bag for the perfect outfits to wear in this wonderful evening. There are the casual jeans with a jumper, I know Sherlock loves. But there also is a suit. Or I could also wear some shorts and a fancy shirt. ‘Oh my god! I can’t decide!’ I scream internally. After a couple of minutes staring at the three outfits laying on the king bed. Sherlock enters the room and asks, “What is the matter, love?”

“I can’t decide,” I answer with more confusion as intended. Sherlock joins my staring contest with the outfits and after some seconds he answers, “The sun would make you look amazing with this outfit.” Pointing at the casual jeans and jumpers. 

“Wow. I didn’t know you had a sense of fashion.” I say in shock. 

“Well, you still have things to learn about me, love,” Sherlock answers and walks to the balcony again this time only to gather the things he left outside. I quickly get dressed and call Sherlock to get his keys along with his wallet to head out. I fix my hair in front of the mirror as a final touch. 

“Ready?” Sherlock asks from behind, both looking at each other through the mirror. 

“The last one to the lobby is a drama queen.” I quickly answer, grading the keys from the table next to the mirror and heading to the door, so fast, I almost trip. Sherlock took no more than three seconds to follow me. Leaving the room close and running through the halls like flash. There was a couple of people in the hallways, but we just skipped them. I was in front go the race, Sherlock about five inches away from me. Trying not to focus on the race, I attempt to map out the hallway, just like Sherlock had reached me so I wouldn't get lost again. The map tales a couple of seconds to load, but when it finally appears I can get anywhere in this hotel. To my luck, there are some couples in the elevator and when the doors are about to close, I fit my body into the small space of the closing elevator doors. From where I am, Sherlock is pretty far and doesn’t even get to the elevator when the doors close, dividing us into different floors. I really think I could get to the lobby first by the elevator, after all, it is the fifth floor only. After a minute, the elevator doors open to reveal again the beautiful lobby. As I walk out of the elevator, I take note of everyone around the lobby. No sign of Sherlock, ‘HA, he is the drama queen now, comes to no surprise.” I say inside my head. ‘I’ll wait by the sofas’ I think. Knowing he would come by the stairs, I wait against the wall for him to appear, breathlessly hurried. It must’ve been no more than ten seconds for Sherlock to open the stair door in a flash. 

“Oh, hello! Drama Queen!” I welcome him sarcastically. 

“That wasn’t fair,” Sherlock answers knowing he lost. 

“It seems pretty fair to me,” I say walking towards the exit, not minding the people walking past us. Sherlock follows. 

“Ok, well now forgetting about the drama queen situation.” Sherlock starts, “While you were in the bathroom, I took some time to look at amazing places we could go.” I look up to him, expecting boredom and stillness, but instead, I find excitement and illusion. 

“Sure love, where do you want to go first? I mean, I could give you some suggestions.” I answer. 

“Well, I wanted to go to…” Sherlock starts, taking his phone out, “…La pleza del Sul” he said with insecure pronunciation. 

“Oh! That is the same place I wanted to go to!” I say in shock, again, to the coincident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tune! May post the other half later this week. <3


	3. First day! (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the other half of the second chapter. I hope you enjoy it!  
> I'm taking requests for the next chapter. So if you want your idea to be read. Leave kudos and a comment saying what you would like to read in the next chapter.   
> Love you all,  
> Naomi

We continued walking to the main street to order a taxi. I wave my hand into the street and instantly, a taxi enters our street and parks in front of us. We enter the taxi from the same door, while I told the destination to the driver, Sherlock took out his phone from his pocket and with his free hand pull me into his embrace. This is all out of the blue, which surprises me. Sherlock raises his free hand, holding his phone up to our eye level, and quickly snaps a picture. Without letting me go, his hand lowers and shows me the picture he just took. We look absolutely stunning!

“I love it!” I exclaim.

“Definitely,” Sherlock agrees.

The taxi is already making it’s way to our destination, and Sherlock is staring at the photo in his phone. But my stare switched to Sherlock’s face himself. ’So perfect’ The words repeating in my mind. It’s clear I can not just stare at him without kissing him, so I did exactly that. His smile doesn’t seem to stop growing. 

“I love you, John.” Sherlock turns his face towards me, dropping his phone on his lap. 

“I know, and I to you.” I answer, leaning our foreheads together in the middle.

It approximately takes us 15 minutes to arrive. ‘This place is full!’ I think. Mostly families I notice. Sherlock’s absence of words let’s me know that I have to pay. While we get out of the car, he grabs my hand slowly and walks towards the first things that catches our attention. Which was the big, back monument of a bear against a tree. 

“It’s interesting.” I say looking up to it.

“I agree.” Sherlock answers reading the caption under the monument.

I absolutely loved this place. We continued walking around the plaza, which we later found out it wasn’t called a ‘plaza’ and was actually called ’la puerta.” (the door). After learning what meant every monument in the plaza meant, we walked to ‘Presiados Street’ in every block, there was around seven stores, with fashionable clothes displayed. Sherlock brought himself an William Westmancott Ultimate Bespoke, which according to him it was now, one of the most expensive suits in our wardrobe. I let him buy it, because I didn’t understand mush about suits, Sherlock was the only to wear them. Along the walking and shopping and making fun of Sherlock’s fake accent, we encountered our new favorite place to get churros. It was this store called “Chocolateria de San Gines” I recall Sherlock joking, “John, sorry but I’m going to date this churro now.” I took his joke to deliver my second official hint. While Sherlock was looking for a table for two, I told the barista to add a circular churro inside the hot chocolate. 

“Wow this place has the best churros I have ever tried!” Sherlock comments while walking out the store, “It’s always filled with costumers.” 

“Yea! The waiters must be very concentrated to not mess up an order.” I say following him.

Once Sherlock finished with his second churro, he stated to drink his hot chocolate. I was getting impatient for him to reach the bottom of his chocolate. My hands were actually sweating. ‘what if his reaction is unacceptable? what if he gets mad? or insensitive?’ My mind spinning over this thoughts. Without noticing, Sherlock stops walking and looks at the bottom of his carton cup. My eyes search for any disapproval, or anything negative. But all I find is a genuine smile and shining galaxies-looking eyes. 

“John! look what they’ve put here!” Sherlock says with a smile. I walk to wards him and say, “Ha! It looks like a ring” my cheeks start to heat up.

“Oh you are right.” Sherlock looks up to me. Turning from a gentle smile into a more serious face, Sherlock continues, “John Watson…” million of things crosses through my brain, “…would you take this delicious churro as your loyal favorite-food?” Sherlock bends instantly down laughing at his own joke. My mind calms down in disappointment and follows his laughter. Did Sherlock just made a joke out of my hint?! I take some deep breaths. I know Sherlock was just playing and for the record, the hint was out and I knew, inside me, that Sherlock must’ve understood it. We kept walking some streets until our feet hurt, we decided to take a taxi on the way back to the hotel, because it was getting dark and we wanted to enjoy the hotel. It did not took more than fifteen minutes for us to get to the hotel. 

Before we got off the taxi Sherlock turns to me and says, “John, don’t look at anybody but the door and me, OK?” 

I laugh and respond, “Love…” I cup his face with my hands and brush his cheekbones, “You are the only one I can see, the rest are just blurry and ugly people.” I push my lips to his and Sherlock instantly reach out to me and makes the kiss deeper but loving. 

“John, I love you so much.” Sherlock broke the kiss and slowly turned around to open the door. But rushed towards the lobby, I shouted, “Sherlock! You will have to pay all the taxis tomorrow!” I turn around to pay another 15 euros. I catch up Sherlock in front of the elevators. When I finally catch up to him I ask, “Love, what is the rush?” 

Sherlock smiles at the floor and looks down to me, “I have to see you naked and in that jacuzzi!” Sherlock half shouts in anxiety. He waits a second to say more calmly, “Watson, you are wrecking my nerves.” I laugh at his confession. We enter the empty elevator and I take this moment to turn around, face him and push his hips towards the wall. In a low, seductive voice I ask, “Isn’t it amazing how I can take you apart and build you back just with a heated kiss?” My eyes roam around his eyes and his cheekbones then planted them on his lips. Not wasting a single second I push my lips to his. Tiptoeing and turning my face slowly to a side, building him up inside out. Without Sherlock asking for permission, he invades my mouth and wraps his arms around my neck. Locking both our faces together. Moments like this, I wish we had a superpower to maintain our breath for longer. Sherlock wanting to breathe, unlocks his arms and moves them to my hip. I take the chance to part our lips and catch a breath. Our foreheads push together and like teenagers we smile uncontrollably for the rest of the ride. We walk towards our room holding hands making soft comments about love and the jacuzzi. When we finally get to our room. Sherlock walks in to see the jacuzzi behind the glassed wall, then looks at me with his head dramatically tiled. 

“Shall we?” I ask winking at him. 

“We shall.” Sherlock answers. Unbuttoning his suit and dropping each piece of clothe to the floor. I reciprocate his actions while walking towards him. 

“Champagne?” I ask taking one step closer. 

“Wine?” Another. 

“Sangria? Your favorite.” Final step. 

“Oh! How well you know me” Sherlock responds with agreement. His bare chest distracting me from his eyes. My hands raise to feel his perfect chest and six pack. My eyes following the movement of my hands, then working my way up to his bow shaped lips and without thinking about it, I brush my lips to his and Sherlock takes control over my lips. It is not a rushed kiss but rather a soft and passionate kiss like tasting the deepest end of each other. My shirt becomes an obstacle for both our skins so Sherlock takes his hands and starts to unbutton my shirt, pushing it behind me in a clear and fast motion and trowing it to the floor. Unable to hold myself together I push my chest to his, still maintaining the calmness in the kiss. My shoes and pants, unnoticeably already by the floor and so are Sherlock’s. Controlling his body I manage to open the door behind him. Entering the water room with the jacuzzi and a medium pool next to it. 

“Sherl...wait don’t fall,” I say parting apart and looking down the steps it takes to enter the jacuzzi. The first step was burning hot, but I kinda like it. Second step was focused on the bobbles popping up my leg. Sherlock made a loud gasp when the water was above his tight. Still glued together, holding each other’s hip close standing in the middle of the warming pool. 

“Bottom or top?” I ask, knowing what Sherlock wants. 

“Toplock” Sherlock smiles and pushes me down to the seat around the jacuzzi. His galaxy eyes looking at every inch of me up and down. Placing each leg to my side, locking me between him. Stretching my arms towards him, signaling for him to come closer to me. Sherlock finally sits on my lap and presses our lips together in one fast motion. Then pushes himself up, making both our erections touch and brush against each other. A moan escapes my lips without control and Sherlock does it again and again.

“How bloody well you know me,” I mange to say somewhere along a heated kiss. 

“Relax, love. Sit back and let me brake you apart, then pull you back together,” Sherlock whispers in my ear and starts to kiss my sweet spot on my neck. While his hand slowly works lower on my stomach.

“Ahh, Sherl...” I moan unconsciously when Sherlock’s hand wraps around my harden cock and moves up and down slowly, teasing. I can feel Sherlock’s eyes planted on my face, wanting to see how I walk up the stairs of pleasure. 

“Sherl... please..” I breathlessly say, begging for Sherlock to stop teasing. 

“Move,” I hear and Sherlock moves me to the edge of the seat and pushes me back. I let him do whatever. For the rest of the night, all that escaped my lips was Sherlock’s name in different tones and Sherlock’s vocabulary shorten to one word only, John. After we climb to the end of the stairs of pleasure, Sherlock falls off the edge first and I followed after some thrusts inside Sherlock. 

“The stars are out,” I say holding Sherlock in my hands, against my chest. Looking at the gigantic window above us. 

“Lovely,” I hear Sherlock say, but I know he is not looking. 

“Love, lets go to bed, OK?” I say, knowing the hot water could makes us fall asleep right here and cause an unwanted accident. 

“I don’t wanna,” Sherlock whines. 

“Get up Sherlock,” I command, knowing he loves this tone. 

“Only cause you are saying it that way,” Sherlock says, standing up from my lap and walking out of the water room. I follow him and the second I try to stand up, my legs shake and it become hard to walk. 

“To much hot water, John, you’ve relaxed your muscles way to much,” Sherlock shouts from the bed. I manage to walk towards the bed without falling. Sherlock taps the stop next to him, signaling me to lay there. I crawl there, Sherlock open his arm and I fall in his embrace. It doesn’t take more than three minutes for Sherlock to fall asleep. Making sure he is asleep first, I close my eyes, impatient for the next day’s surprise, and sleep catches me in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was short, sorry.   
> Leave suggestions!


	4. the DAY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, Im sorry. Hope you enjoy, this is half of the third chapter, so yea........ sorry.

‘Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep’ I repeated to myself. I’m so bloody nervous! ‘but I shouldn’t’ My thoughts are killing me slowing and silently. 

“John,” Sherlock whispers to my chest. Somehow my mind relaxes a bit. I look down to him. 

“John, your sleeping patterns have changed, why can’t you sleep?” Sherlock asks. My nose catchers the woody and deep ocean smell from his curls. The smell relaxes me a bit more. 

“Sorry love, you can go back to sleep. I’ll be alright.” I respond, not wanting to bother Sherlock’s unusual sleeping. 

“I will. But it doesn’t tell me why you can’t sleep.” Sherlock insistently answer. ‘How do I tell you?....’ 

“I ate to much churros and I’m full,” I lied. 

“Oh. Do you need anything?” Sherlock stands on his elbow, with a concern face.

“Right now, love I need you to relax and go back to sleep,” I answer, ashamed for braking Sherlock’s sleep pattern. 

“I can’t go to sleep, unless you do first,” Sherlock says, laying again on my arm, snuggling into my bare chest. 

“Right, yes,” I dryly answer. But Sherlock lets it slip and tightly hugs my torso. I reciprocate him, gluing us together and it doesn’t take more than a couple of a minutes for me to catch the sleep. 

The next time I open my eyes, I feel the space next to me, cold and empty. Not enjoying the feeling, I call Sherlock’s name once, no answer. Twice, no response. No use to waste my voice this early in the morning. I shift my whole body to the other side of the bed, facing now the water room. I bet my pupils got three times bigger when I saw a thin, gorgeous, well-shape man on the edge of the pool, that was next to the jacuzzi. My right eyebrow rices when he makes a semi-professional dive into the pool, without making a whole splash outside. Sherlock was not only a drama queen, but a talent-prince. With an amazing sense of fashion, magnificent swimming skills, and I can’t wait to learn more about him when we finally steal our futures together. I get out of bed and decide to let Sherlock enjoy himself in the pool, while I take a bath. I enter the fancy bathroom once again and turn the water on first, then I start to take out my clothes. While I take the bath, I make a little agenda in my head of all the romantic places we could go today, and to propose I’m taking us for dinner. A several minutes must’ve passed, because the mirror was totally forged with the heat of the water. There’s a white towel outside, hanging to the door, I take it shamelessly. When I enter the room I find Sherlock throwing clothes out of his cabinet like crazy.

“Sherlock?…. You looking for something?” I ask curiously skipping through the clothes laying on the floor, getting closer to him. Sherlock turns around to look at me and stops trowing clothes to the air. 

“Erm… no, Im just looking for the…” Sherlocks looks up to the ceiling, loosing his train of thought, “pair of socks that is messing up my sock index,” Sherlock finally finishes his sentences. We share a confused look for at least some seconds.

Sherlock is the one that brakes the silence, “Love, where are going today?” 

Forgetting about Sherlock’s crazy acting, I respond, “Well, I was hoping we could go to a romantic place, and then we can go to this interesting dinner place I found,” Leaning towards him, giving him the usual morning kiss, a small peak on the lips. 

“Alright, want me to choose out your clothes?” Sherlock asks and I don’t know is he is joking or being serious. 

“Whatever floats your boat, love,” I answer, assure that I answer Sherlock’s question, either is he was joking or actually wanting to choose my clothes. 

“Today may be colder than yesterday, and based on your socks you brougth, I can assure you really want to escape London’s cold. So it would be great for your toes, and overall self, to wear your cream jumper with the jeans that are thicker on the inside,” Sherlock answers and gives me a soft smile then says. “Yes, that outfit would make you look adorable,” This makes me smile and I can’t contain myself from kissing him again. When we separate, both of our smiles are still permanent on our lips, Sherlocks makes a realizing face and says, “Oh wait, you can’t wear that, you are going to look adorable and other people would stare are you,” I laugh out loud, trowing my head back, my shoulders shaking. I know this makes Sherlock laugh, so I continue doing it on purpose. 

“Love, I’m going wear this now—“ I say and Sherlock interrupts me, “But—“ I continue, “But I am going to be holding your hand all the time and my eyes are going to be planted on you only,” I finish. Sherlock grab my hands from my side and brings them up to his face and kiss them. 

“I love you so much John,” Sherlock says making me blush. 

“I love you more Sherlock,” I answer. 

“I— look John, we are not going to have this conversation again, last time we lasted exactly five hours on bed deciding who loves who more. To conclude, we both love each other equally.” Sherlock says, making me smile to the memory. 

“Yes, we couldn’t agree,” I comment on the loving memory. Like we were stuck in the moment, our eyes stare at each other in the most comfortable manner. I absolutely love moments like this, when we forget about everything around us, focusing on each other only. 

“I’m going to take a shower be out in a couple of minutes,” Sherlock says, walking towards the bathroom. Leaving me in between his mess on the floor. I look around at the multiple clothes, mostly suits, thrown on the floor. ‘He’ll fix it when he comes out’ I think. I walk to wards my drawer of clothes to get the clothes Sherlock has advised. I open the drawer and raise a couple of shirts and pants to find the small, red leather box that I would open today. Sherlock finishes his bath by the time I am already changed. I’m in my computer, updating the pictures we took yesterday and upgrading my personal blog. 

“Love, today we are going to watch a play at a theater near central Madrid,” I say, looking at my computer. There was no response from Sherlock. 

“Sherlock, love?” I call him, finishing typing my last sentence then I look up to him. He is sitting on the bed, with the golden phone of the hotel on his ear and the hotel phone guide on his lap. 

“Hola? Oh, Hello! Yes, I would like to order the Rioja Red wine, please,” Sherlock says to the other end of the call. 

“Yes. Alright thank you,” He hanged up and looked at me. 

“They perfectly understood your Spanish, huh?” I ask sarcastically. 

“Shut up. I am ordering a wine for us. Can you believe it only costs 20 dollars?!” Sherlock says. 

“Alright, but we have be out of here in an hour,” I say, standing up, walking towards him. 

“I found this play that I think you would like. It’s called…” I explain to him while talking out the ticket from my pocket. 

“The mousetrap!” I say it with a suspenseful ending. Sherlock reaches his eyebrows and looks to my side. I think he doesn’t like the idea, so I say, “But if you had something else in mind, we can do that instead.” Sherlock instantly look back at me, eyes wide open, “Oh! No, love, I do. I was just thinking if I had seen it before, it sounded familiar.” I let Sherlock think for a couple of seconds, but nothing comes to him mind. 

“Anyway,” Sherlock brakes his train of thought, “Then later we could go to —“ 

“Diner,” 

“Diner,” We both say at the same time. There was laughing for the next minute, then Sherlock got up and directed himself to his drawer, or was what left of it. 

“Did you find your sock?” I ask him, sitting on the bed looking at his perfect arse through the towel. 

“Ermm… Yes, it was in the bathroom.” He responded. But I was in the bathroom before him and there wasn’t any sock in there.

“There wasn’t any socks in the bathroom when I entered.” I speak my mind. ‘This is interesting, what is he hiding?’

“Oh, well…” Sherlock stands up and he looks like his thoughts are lost in the air. 

“They were behind the towels,” he finishes his sentence. ‘What were they doing there?’ 

“Oh, alright.” I drop the subject, because there was no way I was gonna extract more information from him; ‘well, unless I use my body, but we are heading out now’ 

“What were you typing?” Sherlock asks. 

“Personal blog.” I answer shortly. There was no more questions for the rest of the time he was dressing up. Once both of he was ready, room service knocks the door and I go to grab the wine and the two fancy cups. When I turn around to see Sherlock, he is different. He looks like he is the winner of the Olympic Games. I laugh at the though. 

“You look like you just won the Olympic Games.” I say while walking towards the table to serve the wine. 

“HA, HA, Oh John, if the Olympics were you, I have indeed won.” Sherlock says fast and low. 

I don’t hesitate to answer, “Of course you’ve won me.” But my mind is still trying to make sense of what Sherlock said. 

“Today is a brilliant day!” Sherlock grabs my wrist and turns me around. We are standing way to close to not do anything. Sherlock is the one to push his lips against mine fist. I, without hesitation, kiss him back with the same strength. We brake apart when my arms and knees start to fail me and the wine bottle almost slips off my fingers. 

“Love, I just went to get the wine. When I turned around you changed so dramatically.” I smile, my tone is now suspicious but interested.

“Well, John, you love it when I’m happy because your eyes starts to shine. And I love it when you are happy, and I love that I am happy, and I love that I love it, just like you love it. So I’m just going keep going that.” Sherlock says way to quickly to follow. My eyes are all around the room trying to understand what he just said. He noticed and just said, “Theres a lot of love happening here, its kind of dangerous, but Its ok, because we are danger junkies.” 

“You are talking like a kid.” I say with a small laugh. “And I love it!” We share the laugh for a good two minutes, completely forgetting about the wine. 

“Wine?” I finally ask, remembering about it. 

“Thirsty,” He responds, letting me go. I pour the red drink into the cups and hand one to Sherlock. He takes the first sip and says, “I stay loyal to the Sangria.” That made me laugh with my whole body. 

“We need to get going, love. The play starts in a couple of hours, and I don’t know how long it would take for us to get there.” I say, leaving the empty cup in the table. 

“Alright. This time, don’t run please. Enough we have with racing the criminals we chase down.” Sherlock says sarcastically. Again laughter escapes my lips. 

“True, alright.” I respond, gathering my wallet and phone from the bed stand. Sherlock is the first one out the room, followed by me and the box in my jacket. While we walked to the elevator Sherlock asks me about the play and I tell him that in a theater called, “The Mousetrap and it a play about murder—“

“Murder!” Sherlock shouts in excitement. I face him and smile. Looking him happy is always joyful.

“Yes, love I know you would like it,” I answered once we got to the elevator. 

“Of course I do— Oh wait no.” Sherlock’s excitement fell out the window.

“What is the matter?” I ask, worry he may not like it.

Sherlock took a while to answer, “The audience is going to make wrong assumptions about the murder. And so is will the actors!” He cried. I laughed a little. We were now in the lobby and Sherlock was already regretting going somewhere where would be the only one clever enough to solve the crime before everyone else. But I kept reminding him that it was all fine and we could focus on the actors skills and cuddle more than anything. 

“The best thing is that we got seats In the private balcony,” I encourage him while entering the taxi. Sherlock doesn’t responds, but I know he loves the idea. The taxi ride traveled with a conformable silence and enjoying the outline of the buildings the as the sun grows into the sky. Once we finally go to the theater, I was the first out the car. Keeping my word from yesterday, that Sherlock was gonna pay for every taxi we use. The entrance of the theater was really nice and detailed in it’s features. Once we entered the theater, a guy marked our tickets and made us take out all of metal items, I couldn’t take out the ring in front of Sherlock now. So while he was also taking his jacket out I made a smooth movement and hid the little box under my watch. I turned around and moved with Sherlock, trying to get him to look anywhere but the box. Sherlock went into the metal detector machine first and I hurried behind him, so I would catch my box and my watch. My mind relaxed a little when I successfully hid the ring out of Sherlock’s eyes. We entered the room and headed towards the stairs. We had to ask a couple of people to help us get to the balcony, none of them were really helpful, but we finally founded using Sherlock’s ‘mind map’. We sat comfortably on the semi-couch and waited a couple minutes for the play to actually start. Once it stared, all the lights went off, except the ones on stage and on the ceiling. We went quiet and actually paid attention to the play that was happening, well, to be precise only I paid attention for the first half of the play, Sherlock was in another world inside his palace. Although his presence was here and I felt his warmth all over my chest, I could tell he was sulking. For the other half of the play, we switched roles. Sherlock making brilliant comments about the muder and the how stupid were the others who couldn’t figure it out. I was really surprised that it took him half the play to solve it, I guess it was worth bringing him here. He will always miss the thrill of finding the murder, even when he just finish solving one. The only string that has been holding him for this trip is the electricity that spikes inside him when I took him. A couple minutes pass and the play ended. It was around one pm, we walked out of the theater and look at our sides, wondering what to do, it was too early to do dinner. 

“Well, that was really interesting,” Sherlock commented. 

“Yes, I agree, the actors were really good.” I answer.

“What shall we do now?” He asks. 

“I really don’t know, all I have on the agenda next is diner, but its too early for that,” I say, looking up at him. 

“Oh, well then how about we go back to the hotel and enjoy the pool?” Sherlock asks with a smirk on his lips, while grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him. I chuckle and pull him in for a quick kiss. 

“That sounds like a Sherlock idea,” I say, braking apart and walking down the road. Sherlock looks down at me with the funniest face his made this whole trip. 

“Did you just—“ He starts. “Yes, but you know it’s true.” I interrupt with a smile. 

“Ok, yes I guess its true.” Sherlock responds. In between the talking, walking and laughting, I noticed that we were kinda far from the hotel and we should probably take a taxi back to it. Sherlock must’ve also noticed it, because he stoped walking and went to the sidewalk and waved his hand in the air, ordering a taxi. In no time, we were on our way to the hotel. We entered in comfortable silence, Sherlock looking between his phone and the buildings outsides. On the other hand, my eyes were all over him, noticing every detail on his face, on his hair, on his torso, on his legs on his feet, and back again to his hair. He is currently a beautiful mystery, one I want to take for the rest of my life. One to frustrate over, and then obtain a hint to become closer to solve it. 

In between my thoughts, Sherlock says, “You’re staring,” and turns his galaxy eyes towards me. I smile a bit because I know I am and I’m proud of it, “I’m just admiring the obvious beauty in front of me,” I smirk and Sherlock juts gives me a sweet smile and turns his phone off, then lays his head on my lap. His hands telling me he is gone to his mind palace. We have about ten minutes left until we get to the hotel, for the rest of the ride I played with his curls and Sherlock was in his mind palace. We finally got to the hotel, Sherlock paying (of course), we walked to the elevator and I found the guy that flirted with Sherlock, ridding behind some boxes with some one else. The though of him not bothering us make me feel better but then I though the guy with who he was could’ve been Sherlock or I and a small shiver runs though my spine, making me look away. Making our way to our room now, not looking for any distractions, we arrive and I am supricently tired, even though we just watched a play for about two hours, completely sitting down. Sherlock is also tires, because he trew himself on the bed, next to me. 

“Im tired, John.” He says lazily a couple seconds later. 

“Me too, love,” I answer, “It’s what the theater has,” I add

“Wanna sleep and then pool?” Sherlock asks 

“I would love that.” I respond, moving myself higher on the bed, until my head is resting on the pillows. Sherlock is not very far away, so he just have to fix his body to fit with mine. My mind shakes when I realize Sherlock is about to hug the side of the coat that has the ring in it. I almost jump when I, almost, shout, “Wait! Let… me take out my jacket” I say while managing to take out my jacket laying down. Sherlock seems to come to his sences and replies, “Oh yes! Me too.” And quickly takes it off also. Trowing it to the side of the bed, I turn to face Sherlock and like a routine, our legs find themselves tangled together. I smile at the warming embrace. My eyes slowly move higher on Sherlock’s body, his prefects tights, his defined hips, his delicious torso, his forming biceps, his neck that would soon be cover in love marks, and finally his face, God those cheekbones and those angle lips and his galaxy-looking eyes and his beautiful curls, I go back to the eyes to find Sherlock looking down at me, just like I was doing a moment ago, going from the bottom of my toes, up to my eyes. When our eyes meet, everything stopped, just maintained there, looking into the other’s soul. God, I could devour him on this bed if we weren’t to tired. His eyes were getting heavyer to open, my hand resting on his waist moves to his defined curls and start to play with them hoping this would relax him dropping him into a peaceful sleep under my embrace. Soon after Sherlock’s breathing tells me he is asleep, I follow also hoping for the next time I open my eyes I’m ready to propose to the love of my life with out any sort of excuse or problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated.


	5. The last case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some good smut at the beginning, followed by the last case before THEY propose. Sherlock is not really any different from when he is solving crimes in London.   
> That amazing sarcastic genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry not posting this chapter sooner, but my life has turned a little upside down. But I hope this can make it up. I also have to say... I have NO idea how to write a crime scene, but this is an attempt on it. I hope you enjoy it and... yea!

I open my eyes facing the water room, not the best first view if you ask me. But a soft hand movement takes me back home, for I know its Sherlock. I think a couple of seconds deciding whether I should wake him and enjoy the pool or let him sleep. In between my toughs, I see my jacket on the floor reminding me that today is the fucking day I’m proposing to Sherlock bloody Holmes and we will seal our future together. My hand reaches my phone on the nightstand next to me. 4:30 pm. Not late but really early to get dinner anyway. Reviewing what happened before we fell asleep, I remember that Sherlock wanted to enjoy the pool and the jacuzzi. Excited by the thought, I quickly turn around to face Sherlock. Cupping my hands around Sherlock’s define jawline and rubbing my thumbs on his cheekbones, I whisper, “Sherlock,” he shifts around with a extraordinary stretch that outlines his muscles and body; he swirl face the other way, a delicious moan escapes his lips, making me fall a little more in love with him. I repeat myself again, “love, pool?” Sherlocks turns to me again and simply smiles, already excited to do so. I lean forward to give him an encouraging kiss like we always do first thing in the mornings. I sit up slowly to stretch my muscles, involuntarily, I make noise much close to a deep moan. After I finished stretching, my nerves send an electric shock to my brain, telling me that someone is hugging me from behind and leaving kisses on the border of the neck and shoulder. 

A voice behind me sensually whispers, “That was a delicious sound you made there,” his trail of kisses working up my neck, up to the most sensible spot on my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Throwing my head back on his shoulder, absorbing all his kisses. His arms around my waist tightens and a small murmur on my ear says, “Forget the pool…. lay down John,” Sherlock’s commanding voice grows out of his throat and pushes me down on my back. Sherlock takes quick control over me and starts to takes play with my lips, biting and sucking, seeking for entrance and without hesitation, I welcome him in. By now he has placed himself on top of me, but lips never breaking contact. Our tongues are having a battle for dominance, I give in and let Sherlock brake me down. He practically throws his shirt out of his body, exposing his muscles; igniting the fire that is burning out of control in my chest and lips. 

“Do it again, John,” Sherlock commands, referring to the moan of my stretch. Clearly, he wants to play a kink game; to make it more interesting I respond, “Provoke me Sherlock,” With that Sherlock’s eyes grew hungrily and his hands worked ten times faster. Taking my shit off in a flash and throwing me back down, Sherlock groan, “Off” his eyes pointing at my pants. I really admire his control, but I can pull a better commander than him. ‘Later’ I think. In less than ten seconds, both of us were left in our boxers. His hand move lower on my stomach while distracting me with the pressure of his lips on mine, he was already on the borderline of my boxers and skin. Teasing around my stomach and inner tights, I let out a deep moan, much like the first one. 

“Good John…” Sherlock was already breathless, “again,” he repeats. 

“Provoke… me…. Please” I whimper for him to stop teasing. Sherlock knows that if he wants to get what he wants, he will need to go to the next level. I raise my hip so he can pull them off, without losing a second he snatches my boxers out of my body. His hand moves slowly from my ankle to my inner thighs making me harder by the second. 

“Sherl… aaahhmmmmh… please,” I moan, giving him what he wants. “Again, but deeper, John,” Sherlock answers to my lips and moves slowly to the border of my neck and shoulder and starts to violently kissing it; he is directly in my sweet spot, which makes me whimper only. In Sherlock’s desperation his hand grabs my cock tightly at the base, and slips his thumb over the tip of my cock and smear the moisture beading there, I whimper and clash my teeth together in a snarl at the feeling, my mind is an absolute mess as Sherlock grips my cock slightly harder and stroked it. 

“Nightstand.” I manage to say. Sherlock knows the drill and stretches his whole body over mine to reach it. My hands, not bearing the lack of touching Sherlock, takes his waist and pull them down to my stomach; not letting Sherlock reach the lube, but my lips on his are always worth it. Sherlock forget what he was doing and concentrates on my our lips, while his hands explore my sensible nipples; making me moan on his lips, losing him; Sherlock takes advantage of my idiocy and grabs the lube.

“Talk…. to me… Sherlock.” I thirstily say. Changing the current kink. Dropping the commanding Sherlock and switching it to a most erotic kink. 

“Talk dirty,” I say, when Sherlock is back to his position, on top of me. A hand on my chest and the other one teasing around my, already, harden cock. His smile grows into a predator’s ready to attack its prey. With this smile, I know this is going to be both fun and deliciously painfully time. 

“I thought I knew how to behave, John.” Sherlock snakes from my stomach with his dirty voice, slowly making his way up to my face but stopping halfway on my chest, “but you turn me not a naughty freak.” He finally finishes it with some hard kisses on my now very sensible nipples. A very loud moan comes out of my mouth, from my desperation, I push Sherlock’s head deeper into my chest, needing to lose my mind to Sherlock. He leaves my chest burning and works his way down to my cock, now laying on my chest. 

“I need something to lick, John, and your cock is screaming to get sucked.” Sherlock sensually says, and quickly takes me whole in his mouth. I hiss and arch to the wet sensation inside Sherlock’s mouth. His tongue is wrapping around it inside, my whole body is shaking and my mouth twists into an experience of ecstasy. Sherlock thrust his head up and down on my cock, sucking his check in like a fish, making it from base to top in a fast pace making my body send shocks up and down inside my body. Sherlock slows down the pace and finishes his last lick, with a twist of his tongue on the tip of my cock. 

“Sherlock…hmmm… Oh God,” I moan somewhere along a groan and whimper.

“I swear, I will make you moan my name so loud, the neighbors will know my name.” Sherlock groans. Just with his words, a loud groan is forced out my lips. “Sherlock..” My mouth drops open to his name, my hands grabbing on the expensive bed sheets on the sides, arching my body up and pushing my hips up in the air, in frustration and desperation of the need of Sherlock braking myself down. 

“I’m going to open you up John, for me.” Sherlock warns me while grabbing the bobble of lube he left next to him, “I’m going to drive you mad.” Pouring a good amount of lube on his palm and fingers. 

“Sherlock… please... stop teasing… and fuck me!” I moan and order. 

Sherlock started to circle my hole once more before he slowly pressed a finger in, my eyes roll shut, biting my bottom lip again, but God! It was maddening, nothing could possibly replace the feeling of Sherlock inside me. I groaned trying to adjust to the pleasant feeling.

“Yess….Sherlock, like that…” I moan loudly.

Sherlock withdraws his finger slightly before pushing it back, slowly repeating the action while I was losing my mind in front of him. Sherlock inserts another finger making me throw my head back with a moan.

“Mmm...More Sh….Sherlock.”

Sherlock growls and pumps three fingers slowly in and out; I grip him slickly and perfectly. I could feel Sherlock sweating and panting much like me. 

“Your thoughts are driving you crazy, Sherlock. I KNOW IT….” I interrupted myself with an uncontrollable moan, feeling Sherlock’s hard cock gave a twitch at the true words that came out of my mouth. I’m a disjointed mess, basically fucking myself onto Sherlock’s fingers; I gasp and then suddenly cried out loudly as Sherlock’s fingers brushed up against my prostate.

“Oh god...Shit.....THERE! Oh God, do that again, please Sherlock...”

Sherlock found the small bundle of nerves again and crooked his finger slightly. I practically bark out a cry of pleasure and pressed back on Sherlock’s fingers, I was so fucking ready.

“Sherlock....Please.” A dark smile grows on Sherlock's face, so ready to break me apart. 

“I want to see your face when you fall apart John.” Sherlock’s words make me stand on my shoulders and look him in the eyes deeply. 

“Yes.. please... Sherlock” Sherlock oriented his cock to my entrance; looks up to meet my eyes; not separating them, Sherlock enters me slowly, but hard enough to make my body shake from head to toe. Unable to hold my eyes open I shut them close hard, throwing my head and shoulders boneless on the bed. Arching my back, while reaching my hip higher into Sherlock. With every thrust, there was a shock rolling through every limp in my body. Sherlock must have already remembered where my prostate is because on the third thrust he was there already. In between the heating moment, getting drunk on his moans and his groans; it ends up throwing me off the edge, making me come inside him, moaning his name out loud. A couple more thrusts for Sherlock to fall bonelessly on me. Our breathless bodies try to catch some air into our lungs to calm the heart rate before they run out of our body. I turn my head to look at him; his eyes are closed in the most pleasant way and a soft smile on his face, his chest still raises and falls at a fast rate. I push my lips on him, I give him soft and lazy kisses, like every time we finish do it. 

“You are amazing, Sherlock.” I make a 180 rotation to face him and wrap my arms around him. 

“You are fantastic, John,” Sherlock responds, looking at me in the eyes. We maintain eye contact for what feels like a comfortable eternity. Then Sherlock’s deep voice brakes the silence, “Let's go outside and get lost.” I keep looking at him, but now with a little confusion in my eyes. 

“What?” I ask, making sure that Sherlock wants to go outside to humanity and just walk along until we get lost. 

“Let's go outside and get lost, didn’t you hear me?” Sherlock’s sassy voice raises. 

“I always hear ‘Let's go outside and get lost’ but it’s usually subtext,” I respond with sarcasm. Sherlock raises an eyebrow, then smiles and says, “Come on! We still got two hours to spear.” 

“And you want to spend it, with humanity?” I ask, wanting to stay in the hotel. 

“What?! No, I want to spend it with you.” Sherlock’s puppy eyes invade my eyesight, giving in to whatever he has on mind doing.

I laugh a little and say, “Whatever you want, love.” My lips meet his again, but this time Sherlock holds on to my face; so I stay and give him a big passionate kiss, enough for him to let me go before he gets a small brain shakedown. 

“Let’s first get clean,” I say, sitting up on the bed, ready to go to the shower. 

“Oh… no… stay..” Sherlock, again, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me down. My hand goes over his and look back into his eyes. 

“Love..” I whine, “You know how hard it is to get out of this bed?” I ask, “It took all of me, to even, sit up away from you.” I confess. Sherlock laughs in between my confession.

“I’ll go first then. It’s not that difficult to get to the shower without you.” Sherlock teases me.

I really laugh hard at that and say, “Love I would really like to see you try.” I try to put my most serious face on, to show him I was really serious.

“OI!” Sherlock sits up on the bed and look back at me with funny eyes and quickly, but hesitantly stands out of the bed. Never breaking eye contact, he continues to the bathroom door and suddenly stops before opening the door. 

“What is the matter, love?” I tease with a smile. 

“Not funny John,” Sherlock says and turns around to look at me.

“Open the door and enter the cold room without me.” I dare him. Sherlock looks at me with the why-would-you-do-that eyes. Then drags his whole body to bed next to me. 

“John, I need you to come with me,” Sherlock says, with his face planted on the bed. I didn’t really understand what he said, but I know what he means.

“And…why?” I ask, wanting for Sherlock to know he failed at his own attempt. 

“Because….” He sighs, “I NEED YOU” Sherlock half shouts to the bed. His hand starches to my body, landing on my biceps. He gives my arm a nice squeeze, feeling my biceps. 

“I like this.” Sherlock turns his head to look at me fully and gives a nice smile. 

“It’s all yours,” I respond, reflecting his smile. 

“It better be.” Sherlock warms me, making me laugh a little. 

“Come on let's get to the bathroom,” I say. With a heavy weight on my shoulders, I stand up quickly and walk to the other side of the bed, where Sherlock is still laying, face down. I try grabbing his arm to pull him up. He refuses the first two pulls, but then he finally stands up and walks to the bathroom. The bathroom floor is very cold, which reminds me of what I told Sherlock before. I look at him, sharing my thought with a look and he says, “Oh, well good thing I didn’t enter alone then.” I smile and because there is no need to take clothes off, I just enter the tub and turn on the warm water. Sherlock is not far away, he enters a second away from when I did. “Let’s actually take a bath,” I say and Sherlock laughs. I grab a new soap from the edge of the tub and try to open it, it takes me a while to open it because of my wet hands and the perfect body in front of me. Sherlock tries to be funny and pretends to pick up the bottle of shampoo between my legs on the floor. While he gets down to pick it up, he maintains eye contact; And I start to shiver a little because of Sherlock on his knees in front of my cock. The shaking moves to my hands, which causes me to drop the bloody still-closed soap on Sherlock’s head while he was standing up. Sherlock rubs the spot where the soap hit his head and I start laughing because, well that is what happens when he tries to be funny and seductive. Sherlock stands up and looks at me with sad eyes, but with a sly smile. “That's what happened when you try to be seductive,” I say while rubbing his head; I give him some small kisses on his foreheads and then lips. The soap must’ve been heavy cause he kept rubbing his head for most of the time. Once we finished with the bath, we both got out and looked at the two white towels, not knowing which one is whom; We just grabbed whichever cause it really doesn’t matter at this point. We leave the bathroom and quickly get changed in silence. Cleaning up the room a bit, I found my jacket on the floor with the box rolled out of the pocket. I almost choke on my air and saliva, I practically jumped on it and “carefully” picked it up. I turn to see if Sherlock saw any of that or the ring; Luckily he was in the balcony smoking a cigarette. It really wasn’t a problem anymore because he smoked, at much, two per week. 

I walked to him and knock on the glass, he walked towards me and opened the glass slightly “Love, you also threw some clothes on the floor.” I say, tilting my head towards the bedroom. He just smiled and nodded, then turned around and shut down his cigarette and throw it on the ashtray we stoled from the Buckingham Palace. It has turned like a small connection to London, we take it everywhere. Sherlock enters and walks towards the clothes laying on the floor next to the bed. I fishing putting on my shoes on the edge of the bed, while Sherlock is picking up his pants and trousers. When he reaches his jacket, I hear him fall on his jacket, much as I did before. I jump a little and quickly turn around to see him, laying on his jacket. 

“You ok?!” I ask worried as hell. 

“Yea. Yea. Yea I’m fine.” Sherlock says as he picks up his jacket whole in his arms and walks to the kitchen. I stay in the bedroom putting on my shoes. I’m about to walk over to Sherlock when we meet in the middle; Sherlock with his jacket on him, taking me back to 221B. We are standing far to close to not do anything about it. Sherlock looks at me and down to my lips, I smile a little and lean in into him. Pushing our lips together and holding us close, I place my hands around his waist to pull him close, but he quickly pulls away and grabs my hands, brings it up to his face and plant a small kiss on the back of my hand. Sherlock keeps hold of my hand and pulls me into his body, then pulls me into the bedroom again. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

“Yes, let me just grab my wallet.” I point towards the closet. “Alright, let's go.” I walk towards the door where Sherlock is waiting for me but looking down on his phone. I turn to lock the door, and Sherlock is already leading the way to the elevator. On the way to the elevator, I wonder where we would end up. Madrid isn’t such a big city, there is really not a big chance we get completely lost. We call the elevator and it came at once; Sherlock’s eyes were still on his phone.

In between the silence, I ask, “Where do you want to get lost?” Sherlock instantly puts his phone away and looks at me. 

“I don’t know, maybe somewhere near a river or a body of water,” Sherlock said casually.

“Body of water?” I ask surprised, “How come?” 

“It's calming... and interesting,” Sherlock answers, looking for words in the air. Without responding, I take out my phone from my pocket to search up any rivers near our hotel; but Sherlock interrupts my search, “I’ve heard there’s a river around here, called…. Jarama” 

“How far is it?” I ask, making sure we can make it back to THE dinner. 

“35 minutes,” Sherlock responds. In my head, I am already counting the minutes and seconds we have, until THE dinner reservation is due. In between calculating every second of this last minute trip, Sherlock says, “Don’t worry, love. We’ll make it to dinner in perfect timing.” Looking up to him, he winks and gives me a small smile. We get to the street and order a taxi. Once we enter the taxi from different doors, I give the diver the name of the river we are going. The next thing I hear is laughter, coming from the front seat. I frown, because I know it’s about the address I gave him. Sherlock doesn’t seem to hear it, because he is already into his mind palace. So I'm just here looking as puzzled as an idiot. I'm about to ask the driver, what the fuck he is laughing at, but Sherlock’s hand meets mine on the middle seat, which makes me look down at them. My eyes then look up to meet his eyes. The galaxy in them tells me to sit back and enjoy the long trip and the view outside. I, involuntary, do what they tell me to do. After a couple seconds, the driver stops laughing and simply shakes his head, then finally shuts up. His silence is music to my ears. It looks us around 30 minutes to get to the river. I was delighted to see so much vegetation; it is like a different world, apart from the center of Madrid. I was almost really happy, we’ll be away from humanity for a couple of hours; until I see multiple red and blue lights. There is not one, not two, not three, but five police cars. I try to look past the sirens and open doors but there’s really nothing much I make sense of. The police have cut the driveway, the taxi can’t go any further than where he is now. 

“What happens here?” I ask anybody who can hear me. 

“Murder,” Sherlock says behind me. ‘How could he possible know—‘ my thoughts come together, when I turn around to see Sherlock smiling and thinking. This bloody high functioning psychopath. I roll my eyes. 

“Sherlock…” I sigh, “you know about this, don’t you?” I make sure I’m not going crazy. Sherlock meets my eyes and says, “We’ll make it to dinner, I promise.” I laugh a little to that. Then he takes out his wallet and leaves the money on the small opening for the diver to get it, and rushes out of the car. I follow him the second he is out the door. I run to catch up where he is.

“Rivers are the numbers one places where people commit murders.” He comments.

“Right,” I answer, catching up everything that is happening right now. 

“How did you know this was happening?” I ask, to at least subtract one question out of the many my mind is rushing with.

“Notifications of my eyes I have walking around this earth,” Sherlock answers casually. I collect myself and decide to just go with the flow. 

“Alright, Sherlock, just one thing.” I walk in front of him, stopping him from walking, “Don’t be ignorant or an utter cock, we don’t know how these people will react.” I say, with a small sigh. Sherlock looks down to me and gives me a small peak on the lips, then smile, “Anything for you.” Then he walks past me, getting closer to the police. There is really nothing I can do to stop him, so I follow him, now further than before. “You know that won't always work, right?” I ask, referring to the way he thinks that with a simple kiss I will forgive him. “Sure it does,” Sherlock responds turning around to look at me and then turning back towards the Crome scene. 

“Hello, my —“ Sherlock gets interrupted by the first police protecting the scene, “No paparazzi” The American police shake his hand towards Sherlock, telling him to go away.

“My name is Sherlock Holmes, detective.” Sherlock continues where he left off. Taking out a wallet out of his pocket and shows a detective badge to the man. The first thought that goes through my mind is that I'm going to call Lestrade, telling him I found his badge and wallet.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” The American police ask, already raising the yellow tape, signaling for him to come in. 

“My self, move aside,” Sherlock responds, already lost patience for people. I let Sherlock go first under the tape and when I try to pass, the American police stops me and before he could say anything, Sherlock turns around and says, “He is my doctor.” With that, the policeman lets me in. I look up at Sherlock and wink, he replies with a genuine smile then turns around. We get closer to the crime scene leader and I know Sherlock already deduced every little thing in that man’s aspect; this is not going to be good. 

“Sir, Sherlock Holmes, detective,” Sherlock shouts to grab the leader’s attention. “British detective, have the permission of the British government to investigate this crime scene.” He didn’t even let the leader talk before he said, “And this is my army doctor, Doc. John Watson.” The leader seems like he is choking on his own unsaid words. Then he finally says, “British detectives? Hm, let me look at your badge.” Sherlock takes a deep breath and takes the badge out of his pocket for the second time now, I know he is getting short in patience. The leader takes a short look at it and then says, “You two have two minutes to get as much information as possible.” He steps aside, letting Sherlock and I move closer to the body on the floor. Middle age man; divorce, poor job, and dressed to go somewhere fancy. That was all I could get, I'm sure Sherlock sees ten times deeper than what I see. While he opened his magnifier to look deeper into the man laying on the muddy ground, the leader, who had a very confused face at the moment, started to talk about what his team knows, “Middle age man, 50 years old. Divorced, three years ago. Not much money, his clothes are from his brother. Poor job, getting old, no spouse…… Suicide.” The leader was looking at me with somewhat concerning, but brave eyes. I, of course, being taught by the best, knew this was murder. Sherlock’s small grin, reveal so. 

“You and your team’s IQ is somewhat the same as the victim’s right now,” Sherlock coldly said. I somehow saw it coming.

“Sherlock,” I said, telling him to be respectful.

“This is a murder of course.” He said casually. 

“What?! How?” The leader shouted in surprise.

“As you said, middle age man, divorced two times, —“ Sherlock got interrupted.

“Two times? How could you possibly know that?!” The leader asks.

“I was getting there,” Sherlock continues with his normal sarcastic voice, “Suntan on his finger, except at the bottom of his ring finger. One, then the second; a ring on his secret pocket inside his jeans.” I hold back the urge to laugh at the face the leader puts as Sherlock is doing his magic, “Poor job, worked as a janitor at his brother’s school,” The leader of the investigation open his mouth to ask a question, but Sherlock already knows what he is going to ask so he raises his voice, “His fingers are dirty and smell like bleach. Nails formed shaped on his thumb, meaning he was holding the usual broom tightly and constantly every day. Brought clothes with his brother’s credit card, he stole it from him at the school.” Again the leader was going to ask a question, but Sherlock rose his voice again, “The credit card is in his pocket, not in his wallet, he took it in a hurry… Anyway getting to the exciting part, murder.” Sherlock turns around to look at the body with his hands pressed together on his chin. 

“John, could you come here please,” Sherlock says, still looking at the corpse. I do as he says, except I already know what he wants me to do. I get closer to the man laying on the floor and quickly see a small hole on his right shoulder, going through the expensive shirt. I adjust myself to rip the shirt to open expose a small opening on his skin, it looks like a needle hole, but thicker. “Sherlock,” I call him out of his conversation with the leader. He comes kneels down next me, I show him the hole on his shoulder. Sherlock hand goes through the wound and tilts his head, then he stands up and moves a couple inches away from the body. I look up to him and so does the leader. Sherlock shifts from side to side, losing his balance and pretends to fall on left shoulder, next to the body. I bend down a bit to see if Sherlock needs help standing up, but no, he is already on his feet and looking deeper into the woods. There is a small pause in the air, then Sherlock laughs and turns towards the leader, “He was killed by a poison dart on his shoulder.” Sherlock stops at the interesting face the leader puts and folds his arms on his chest, “The killer shoot from there,” Sherlock pointed towards the woods. 

“Where is the weapon then?” The leader asks, doubting every word Sherlock is saying. This makes me put my hands inside my pocket before I make him believe otherwise. Sherlock takes a deep breath and raises his head, “Give your team a second.” He says. There was a very uncomfortable silence longing in the air for a couple of minutes. The leader broke the silence by asking, "And so... who is the killer then?" Sherlock jumped a little at sudden question in between the silence. "The first wife of course." He responded with such calmness, "Life insurance, is really not a good idea to share with your ex-ex wife." Sherlock looked back down at the dead body on the floor, "Idiot, of course." He whisper to himself. To Sherlock’s luck, one of the investigators came shouting, “Señor! Mire lo que encontamos.” (Sir!, look at what we found.) The leader moves towards the man to inspect the blowgun he brought in a plastic bag. “As promised,” Sherlock said looking at the weapon. The leader looked at me and Sherlock in surprise and started to laugh, “Well thank you, Mr-“ 

“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson,” I said. The leader told the man to take the weapon to inspection, then turn to us. “Yes. Thank you… umm, how long are you two staying here in Spain?” He asks. I had to answer, so I look to Sherlock for support, “Not long. We are leaving tomorrow.” Sherlock responds and quickly adds, “John shall we?” Pointing towards the cab we left in the middle of traffic. I nod, but before I leave, I stretch my arm to the leader and he shakes it, with the other he waves a small goodbye with his hand. Then moves it towards Sherlock, he reciprocates the action and quickly turns around walking to the road where our cab is still stuck in traffic. While we walk Sherlock comments, “Wow, Anderson must’ve been around here, for these guys not solving the case.” I laugh at his comment because I know how much he loves making fun of people, “Anywho… moving past this… we need to get to the hotel to get you clean up.” I say, pointing out the big mud stain on his left shoulder. 

“Yes, right.” Sherlock looks at his dirty shirt and makes a face of disgust. We reached the road and in between the massive mess of cars turning and honking, we found the cab and we were still in one piece. We knock on the window and the driver looks back at us; with a smile, he unlocked the door and let us in.   
“De vuelta al hotel?” He asked. Sherlock hears the word hotel and responded, “Si, hotel.” He turns to look at me for approval, but his English accent made me laugh and shake my head to the floor. He responded to me by rolling his eyes and looking away with a smile. 

“Cuanto tiempo?” I ask the diver. (How long?)

“Unos… 45 minutos, por el traffico.” The driver responded. (45 minutes, because of the traffic.) I turn to Sherlock and give him a small smile. 

“Enjoy the view then,” Sherlock says, looking out his window. But I need no trees or beautiful colorations of the sky when I have Sherlock to admire and enjoy. Of course, Sherlock notices my concept of ‘enjoy the view’; he turns around to me and says, “By 'view', I meant the outside.” I laugh with a small shake on my shoulders, “I don’t need no outside, when I have you, love.” I respond with my most romantic voice I can pull with now. Sherlock, obviously, flattered by my compliment, smiles and stretches his body next to me to land a loving kiss on my lips, with the most perfect pressure and passion I could ask for. 

“I love you, John.” Sherlock pulls away from my lips and whispers to my lips while pressing his forehead on mine. 

“I love you much more, my genius prat,” I respond with a smile, while I cup his cheeks and pull him in for another needed kiss. We must've been deeply concentrated on our kiss because the next thing I head was the driver clapping and cheering us up. We broke apart to look at him, we really weren’t expecting such a reaction from people. Sherlock and I smile to the driver in surprise. We were going to continue trowing our love into each other, until loud honks from cars behind us started to blast in the air, making the driver brake form his enjoyment of watching us loving one another. The car made a whole 180 turn, to end up in the highway and take us to the hotel. The traffic was indeed heavy, but Sherlock has his own ways of entreating me, other than turning my mind blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudous and comments are appreciated. <3


	6. This is it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JOHN DOES IT GUYS!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im having such a great time writing this.   
> While I was writing it, I screaming and fangirl...ing. (is that a thing?) 
> 
> Anyway enjoy!

“Gracias,” I said, while we gather our stuff and exit the taxi. The view of the hotel blasting in our eyes, it’s always pleasant to see it. We walk pass everyone who is blocking our way to the elevator. Sherlock calls the elevator and it comes at the instant. 

“We have around an hour to get ready and go to dinner,” Sherlock comments while we enter. I know how long we have, I’ve been counting down the minutes and seconds for this date. I’m gonna do it. I still can’t believe I'm doing it, but I couldn’t be any happier. The doors of the elevator open and allow us to walk into the elegant hallway, while we walk towards our door Sherlock grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. I love it when he does this out of the blue, well I pretty much love anything he does. We arrive at our door and I take out the keys to open it. Once we were inside, Sherlock goes to the edge of the bed, facing the TV and turns it on. I stay by the closet to place my jacket on a hanger. The TV was in Spanish so when Sherlock turned it on, he made the funniest face to the unknown language. He grabbed the remote control next to him and looked at it with a mystified face. It was a little complicated to understand, but it wasn’t the most difficult puzzle to solve. I moved to sit next to him and grabbed the remote out of his hands. I pressed a couple of bottoms here and there for the TV now to be in English. I place the remote next to me and look at Sherlock saying, “Not a puzzle, love.” I stood up and headed to the bathroom, behind me I heard Sherlock answering, “Thank you.” 

“On the latest news, a man was killed near Jarama river. The investigators have reached to the conclusion that this is murder. Further forensics would reveal and approve specific information.” The TV changed to the face of the investigator we walked to, “Yes, two British come solvers arrived and actually solved it without any background information. He was somewhat rude, but really a brilliant man. And he was accompanied by an exceptional doctor.” The investigator explained to the interviewer.   
I came out of the bathroom to hear Sherlock’s voice shouting, “We are the British crime solvers,” His voice bouncing with an unsatisfied complain. 

“Well, what do you want to be called?” I ask. Inside me I imagine him answering, ’Sherlock Watson and his husband’, but I know he is not entitled to say that…. yet. 

“I don’t know… something like ‘the two handsome, astonishing, British Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.’ But noooooo We are the British crime solvers.” Sherlock answers with his mocking voice. The one Mycroft and he use to bother one another. 

“Don’t mind the TV,” I say, walking towards him and grabbing the remote next to Sherlock and turning it off.

“Hey! I was watching!” Sherlock exclaims. I turn to look at him in silence. Sherlock reciprocates my staring, fighting for the remote in his silence manner. In between the silence I close my eyes and lean into his lips to land a soft, warming kiss; at the same time, I cup my hands on his perfect jawline to get a good hold on him. When I part away from him, his eyes are still close in the most satisfying way and he has a glowing smile shining on his face. 

“This won’t always work,” Sherlock repeats what I told him back at the crime scene when he did this to me. 

“Yes, it will,” I respond, with the same answer he gave me before. “Go take a bath,” I say, pointing out the dirt on his curls and jacket. Sherlock gets up without a fuss and walks to the bathroom. The next and only sound bouncing off the walls of our room is the sound of the water dripping from inside the bathroom. I’m clean, so I don’t need to take a bath. I take this opportunity to decide what to wear tonight. Opening my wardrobe, I see a couple of shirts and jackets, then I see the one, and the only, suit I brought with me. It’s the one I bought, the third year I lived with Sherlock, I was going to ask him out to a real dinner date, but due to the series of events that happened that year, the was no way I could go out with a ghost. I took the hanger out of the closet with the suit and laid it down on the bed. Looking down at it I notice how untouched it is; I made a vow to never put this suit on unless its for a date with Sherlock. This would be the second time I put on. The first time I asked Sherlock out was unforgettable, the courage and the nervousness I was experiencing was unbearable, I could’ve fainted, but the response from Sherlock brought me back to life. The “yes” and his smile and his eyes and his lips and his hands and his… everything. It was simply spectacular. Coming back to the present world, I remember that our reserved seats are currently waiting for us. I start to unbutton my shirt and pulling down my pants, placing them in the bed, next to the suit. I take out the hanger from the jacket and separate the shirt from inside it. It’s white, the original, but I don’t really care, as long as it’s Sherlock is the one seeing it. The pants go next, they still fit perfectly and it’s iron, which makes it look stunning. The shoes were the only thing I hadn’t brought with me. But I thank Sherlock for encouraging me to buy something new the first day we arrived. He got himself the expensive suit and I got some shoes that seemed classy but diligent. I seat on the bed, and the water inside the bathroom stops dripping, then the sound of the bathroom curtains sliding open. I continue to put on my shoes; they are the kind one had to slide their foot inside. Sherlock comes out of the bathroom, just as I finish putting on the last shoe. He walks towards the bed and frizzes the second he looks at me. I stare at his right back, wanting to see the expression he puts. 

“You look marvelous,” Sherlock finally says, after a couple seconds of staring, “Is that the suit you wore on our first date?” He asks. I am amazed that he remembers. My love for him has increased ten more times. 

“Yes, it is. You remember.” I point out. 

“Yes of course I remember. I played that date in my mind millions of times. To notice the smallest detail.” Sherlock confesses. 

“Well,” I say, walking towards him, “Let me take you on another date.” I reach his hand and intertwine our fingers together. Leaning closer to his face, recording every single mark on him, every single inch of him. His bottomless pool of blue eyes, his long and beautiful eyelashes, then finally his lips; I would die for those lips uncountable times, just to have them against mine. I lean in and land a kiss on those lips; like most of the time, they were warm and soft and welcoming, and it just brought me back home. 

I part away from him, not knowing what to say, Sherlock responds, “I will never reject a date with John Watson.” A smile unconsciously grows on my face.

“Good, cause if you do. He would have no one to takeout on a date.” I respond, telling the truth in the third person. Sherlock lets his head fall down a bit but continues to look at me in the eyes. In between the silent starting, I brake the ice and ask, “Are you going to wear your new suit?” Referring to the one he brought on our first day here. The name was so peculiar, but somehow I remember it; it was called, ‘William Westmancott Ultimate Bespoke’ 

“Actually, I was going to wear one I brought from Baker Street,” Sherlock responds. I must’ve given him a face of both confusion and bewilderment. ‘How the hell did he know he was going to need it?!’ I asked myself. Sherlock, as always, read my mind and responds, “Well, I knew you were going to take me to dinner at some point, so I just came prepared.” I laugh and move apart from him so that he could get his suit. Sherlock went to his wardrobe and take out his luggage bag. 

“I thought you unpacked everything already,” I say. Bringing back to memory what happened the first day. I remember unpacking all my clothes and just telling Sherlock to so too. I guess he just forgot to take it out. No, that can’t be. Sherlock never forgets; he must’ve meant it. ‘Why?’ It's the question. By the time my thoughts finished distracting me, I noticed that Sherlock was holding our his suit, showing it to me. It was inevitable to not recognize what suit it is. 

“It’s the one you wore on our first date,” I said, my voice leaning to flatter and touched tone. It really is a surprise he brought it. 

“Well I wanted to redo that date, but now is more special.” Sherlock's cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“Special how?” I ask, really wanting to know. 

“Special by…erm… doing it in Spain.” Sherlock answers, with a small pause in between; like was looking for a special word.

“You sure? You seem like you wanted to say something else.” I point out the obvious. His cheeks seem to turn to an even darker shade of red.

“No, I didn’t. That was the word I was looking for.” Sherlock responds, with a small shake in his voice. But I let it slip.

“Alright, go change. We leave in 30 minutes.” I advise him. Sherlock without responding grabs his suit and walks into the bathroom. I stay in the living room and decide to sit on one of the chairs near the window. Admiring the view outside, I stare out into space and my mind rushes with all the promises of this dinner. Words. Words are important. But the ring is also important. Where am I going to place the ring? Should I leave it in the box? In the dessert? In his sangria? So many questions! So little answers. I need to think! I have been thinking about this whole trip about it, but now it’s the real moment. Very little detail will lead up to what Sherlock’s response will be. AHHH! I got it! I got it! I will leave the ring inside the box, I'll completely honest with him and I will tell him the big reason why I chose that place. After hearing me out, Sherlock will be surprised and THEN, that is when I will get on my knee and propose. AHH, it's perfect!!! I shout inside my mind. I'm so happy right now!! I can't bear not jumping up and down. When Sherlock comes out of the bathroom, he finds me running and jumping up and down. 

“Everything ok?” Sherlock asks me. My happiness is aching to shoot out my limps. So I grab Sherlock’s face, by cupping my hands to his jawline and press my lips on his really hard, enough to make his back arch back, almost falling back. After some long kissing, I need to breathe and I’m sure Sherlock does too. Not wanting to drop him, I hug him tightly and he hugs me back with the same pressure, I practically shout behind him, “I love you so bloody much!” 

“I love you too John, but seriously, are you alright?” Sherlock asks with a slightly more worried tone. I laugh at his question because I know really what is happening inside me. 

“Yes, everything is more than alright,” I respond, with a little less excitement, controlling myself more. I get down from Sherlock and look at his outfit. He looks brilliant.

“You look magnificent!” I say loudly in excitement.

“Thank you, love.” Sherlocks answers. 

“Are you ready to go?” I ask, wanting to leave this place and prepose. Ha, I love that, ‘… and propose..’ 

“Yes. Let me grab my wallet and then we can start making out way out.” Sherlock responds escaping my embrace.

But I hold him back and say, “No, no, no, no, no don’t worry about the money. It's on me.” I hug him tighter, enough to prevent him from moving. Sherlock laughs and starts of shift around inside my arms, trying to get loose. But I don’t give in so easily. 

“Love, I really need my wallet.” Sherlock insists. 

“What for?” I ask. Still holding him close to me. “John! Let me go, seriously." He is starting to get a little mad, but his voice betrays him, making him sound childlike. He stares deeply into me, trying to frown and show his mad face. But my love and affection take over his fake madness, making him whine, “Johnnnnnn, could you pleaseeee let me down!” I laugh too hard at his require. Hard enough to make me lose my strength and let Sherlock enough advantage to untangle himself from me. He gets down and walks over to the bed stand and grabs his “so needed wallet”. On the other hand, I am here laughing my arse out. Sherlock walks pass me, hitting me slightly on the head with his wallet. I gather myself and straight up my suit. Closing the door. I wipe the tear of laughter out of the corner of my eye. Sherlocks already walking away from me, towards the elevator. I straightened myself up and close the door behind me. I let out some giggles while I catch up to him. The elevator doors open the instant and we enter. 

“Love, you don’t even know where we are going. Why haven’t you asked anything?” I ask in the middle of the silence, falling in my mistake that I haven’t even told Sherlock where we are going. 

“I trust you, love. I’ll go anywhere with you.” Sherlock answers. I love the trust we share in general. I'm sure, well, I’ll go with Sherlock anywhere for better or worse. I realize I’m just smiling at Sherlock, in a creepy way. I come back to the world. 

“Do you want to know?” I ask as the elevator doors open to the lobby. Sherlock grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. 

“Sure.” He responds. 

“There is this place... it's somewhat underground,” I start to describe the place. When I said ‘underground’ Sherlock’s head takes a sharp turn to face me. I laugh a little and answer, “yes, underground, but don’t worry its good,” Sherlock’s head goes back to facing the street. He raises his hand ordering a taxi. 

“Continue,” Sherlock says 

“Yes, erm, why don’t you build your own opinions when we get there,” I answer, in a non-disrespectful manner. The taxi stops in front of us; Sherlock opens the door for me, he follows and closes the door. 

“El vagon de Beni, please. I mean por favor.” I tell the driver. I corrected myself as fast as I heard myself talk English. The driver looks at me by the review mirror and nods, then drives off.

Sherlock doesn’t say a word, it scares me because that means he is thinking. I look at him when he is facing the street, he doesn’t notice me, but it doesn’t matter because he probably knows I’m doing it. The ride doesn't last long, the whole ride, I prepared the words I was going to say for the fifth time this trip. I didn’t notice but the cab stopped and it was Sherlock who shakes my leg to pull me down to earth. 

“You alright?” Sherlock ask. I hear a hint of worry behind his question. 

“Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” I answer. 

Sherlock doesn’t break eye contact while he opens the door, only when he needs to out. The driver was counting the money he was holding on his hand, so I guess Sherlock already paid. I get out and I see a green gate, with a banner on top saying, “El Vagon de Beni.” Very rustical, I like it. Sherlock notices it doesn’t have a lock; he opens the door and signals for me to enter. We immediately enter and see a train wagon under a shear. The trees around it make the environment romantic and welcoming. It’s definitely not underground. It’s a bit hidden but widely popular. 

“John, what is your concept of 'underground'?” Sherlock sarcastically questions. I look up to him, used to his sarcasm, I smile and shake my head. 

“It’s nice,” I exclaim. It really is, we don’t get to see this in London, and the fact that I am proposing here makes it ten times better. 

“I agree, it's stunning,” Sherlock responds somewhere between a dry and emotional voice. There is a man, waiter, at the entrance. Makes sense because if he wasn’t there, we could’ve entered the wrong way and finish up in the kitchen by mistake. He is wearing a white shirt with space green vest and a black bow tie, along with black shoes and pants. The name card in his chest names, Dante. 

“Hola, como están?” Dante asks, moving along with us and stopping at a wooden stand with a big book open in the middle.

“Bien, gracias.” I respond for Sherlock and me, “Tenemos reservas,” I lean forward an inch, pointing at Sherlock then me. 

“Yes, under what name?” He asks in English. I guess I also sound like Sherlock’s fake accent. I smile politely at Dante and he smiles back, I’m really glad someone speaks English. 

“Holmes.”

“Watson.” 

Sherlock and I respond at the same time. ‘Holmes Watson. What a nice name’ I think. My cheeks heat up a bit and just up to Sherlock to find him the same as me, cheeks turn to a pale shade of pink and a small smile on his face. I look down at my shoes to gather myself a small bit and then I look up at Dante, who is still waiting for an answer and has no idea of what just happened. 

“Holmes,” I tell Dante. He smiles and looks down at the book. I look to my side to find Sherlock staring at me, I smile and raise my hand to swing it into my hair. It’s something I love doing and I know Sherlock loves when I do it he says it’s hot, but I say it's needed to keep this hair in control. 

Dante brakes the internal chat between Sherlock and me, by saying, “Yes. Please follow me.” He moved out of the wooden stand and directed us to our seat inside the wagon. The wagon is well distributed, six desks on the left side and six on the other, each aligned with a window, allowing an amazing natural light flash into the table. The chairs are black leather, which makes a good combination with the white tablecloth. Looking up from the tables, I notice the walls are polished and shiny wood; in the middle ceiling, there is white reflective shiny material that makes the wagon look so amazing and rustically and romantic and fancy and...and... and simply stunning. Dante formally points at a table on the left side, which is only for two people; the right side is for families of four. Sherlock and I sit in front of the other smiling and blinking quite nervously. Dante doesn’t take long to grab the menus and place them in our table. He leaves to attend some other costumer calling him. 

“Sherlock you haven’t spoken a word. Are you ok?” I ask, pointing out the obvious. My eyes waiting to meet his, they are planted on the menu. 

“Yes. Just worried I’ll mess it up.” He answers with the most fragile and vulnerable voice I’ve ever heard him talk in. I am now, so worried and curious, yet concerned. 

“What do you mean love?” I ask. I want to know what is bothering him to see if I can help in any way. If it’s bothering Sherlock then it’s also bothering me. Sherlock opens his mouth to answer my question, but Dante swings to our table with a notepad and a pen. Sherlock instantly closes his mouth and goes leans back in the chair. 

“What would the couple want to order,” Dante asks with a smile, ready to copy down what we respond. Sherlock was about to say what was bothering him and Dante interrupted him. 

My goal right now is to make Dante go away as fast as possible. For that, instead of insulting him, I immediately answer, “Penne a la Vodka.” My eyes still looking at Sherlock. But his face is hidden behind the menu. Dante looks at Sherlock waiting for an answer. After some seconds, which felt like an eternity to me, Sherlock finally points something in the menu. I guess it’s a long dish name. Dante nods and writes it down. Just when I thought he was about to finish and already leave, he asks, “And for drinks?” I look sharply at him and take a deep breath through my nose. Sherlock immediately notices this and he answers, “A jar of sangria, thank you.” Dante looks at Sherlock, nod, and leaves, almost running. My attention goes entirely back to Sherlock. 

“Worry about what, Sherlock?” I ask, more serious. Not knowing what is bothering the love of my life, makes me want to punch someone. Sherlock takes a small pause, leaving me in a cliff hanger. He smiles, but not any smile, the smile he knows that would calm me as fast as the speed of light. 

“You will understand at the end.” Sherlock finally says, “Can we not talk about it until the end.” He says. I respect his request, but I instantly question, “Would that make you calm down?” Sherlock looks at me, and tilts his head down a little bit and answers, “Yes.” I give him an approval smile and brush his leg under the table with mine to silently tell him that I am not mad just worried. 

“Trust me, love, if anyone is nervous, I am the most entitle to do so.” I casually say. Sherlock looks up to me and frowns his face just notch and goes back to that holding smile. The sangria is first to arrive, Dante comes and settles two wine glasses in front of us, he also serves it. He looks at me and gives me a hint of a smile, then leaves. 

“Why is everyone smiling?” I ask out loud to anyone who hears me. 

“I know right?!” Sherlock responds with an exhaustion sigh. Who the bloody hell is smiling at Sherlock?! I can feel my blood getting hot and it’s spreading through every limp in my body. It’s not for someone smiling at Sherlock… well, yea it is, but also because he has left me in cliff hanger to my concern and because everyone is using a smile to hide what they really want to say. I look out the window to see if I can breathe and calm down a bit before I look back to who is smiling at MY Sherlock. There are a couple of trees and a nice, romantic walk passage which leads deeper into the vegetation and behind the wagon. My body feels colder and more relaxed. I peacefully and calmly turn around and pretend I am getting something from my jacket’s pocket, but I really am looking for the person who is smiling at Sherlock. There aren’t many people, just two couples and one family, but there was this pair of girls sitting together; the one facing us was playing with her food and looking up at us. I turn back to look at Sherlock and he just looking outside, breathing calmly. ‘What should I do?’ I ask myself, then I come up with an idea that would make the girl understand. I turn back around and this time, I do actually put my hand inside my pocket and I take out the ring box. Trying to make eye contact with the girl wasn’t hard, I just had to put my head in between Sherlock and her. Her eyes were like mines, green with a touch of honey. When she looked at me, her eyes opened widely and then started to move past me, she was really aiming for Sherlock. I raise the ring box and took out the golden ring and waved it in her face. The ring was like candy for her eyes because her eyes followed like the piece of gold it was. I open my mouth and whisper, “I saw him first.” She read my lips perfectly because all she did was look away with there arms crossed in her chest. I laugh a little and place the ring back to the box. Instead of placing it back in my pocket, I keep it in between my legs. Turning back to Sherlock, I notice that he was looking for something in his jacket. Before I get to ask anything, Dante comes back again and places a basket with breadsticks in the center. Sherlock turns around and smiles politely at Dante. He leaves and Sherlock is the one to ask first. 

“How did you made her stop?” He asks. Not the question I had in mind, but it’s a good ice breaker. 

I give him a tentative smile answer, “I'm an army doctor. I know how to threat people.” I wink at him. I have a theory; that Sherlock has a solder kink, and I like to bring to the surface whenever possible. 

Sherlock winks back and reciprocates the smile, but his is dirtier and kinkier. I know what he is implying, so I answer, “You kinky prat.” And laugh it out. Dante enters the laughing zone with two delicious looking plates. He places them in front of us; penne a la vodka for me and Sherlock got a sort of brisk, but more seafood than actually liquid, but past all of that it looks delicious. 

“Thank you.” I automatically respond to Dante. He nods and walks away. 

“Ohh, it looks delicious.” Sherlock’s voice makes something click inside me. 

I brake form my illusion, and respond, “Definitely. I just hope it tastes as good as it looks.” As I finish my sentence, Sherlock is already with a silver fork on his hand and food in his mouth.

“Oh, it sure does,” Sherlock says, with his mouth somewhat full, but with a satisfying smile. We eat quite fast, there isn’t much to eat anyway. It's a fancy restaurant, they serve food for children to grown-ups. Sherlock, as always, is a joy to talk to and laugh with. The comments here and there and the laughs made this meal the best. When we finish, we call Dante to pick up our plate, as he carries out our finished plates, Sherlock asks THE question. 

“Why did you choose this place, John?” His voice is serious, jet curious. In fact, there was a big reason why I chose this place. I know this is it. 

“Do you really want to know?” I ask, stretching my hand to meet his in the middle; warning him the long explication. 

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock responds placing his head in this palm, ready to listen attentively I smile and start, “Remember that time that you made me think I was going to die inside a wagon with you because you didn’t know how to turn off a bomb?” I say, a bit too sarcastic for what I wanted. Sherlock’s eyebrows raise and his eyes opened in surprise, “Yes, well you told me to run away and get on with life, that I had more chance of living a peaceful life without you.” I confess slowly. Sherlock’s lovely surprise face slowly turned into regret, I didn’t like it one bit, so I quickly continue with my story, “But I stayed. I stayed with you, Sherlock. Because I knew I had nothing else for me up there.” I say deeply. Sherlock’s eyes start to shine and a soft smile grows on his face, “That is when I decided that I was not going to let you go. I was going to make you mine.” My heart was beating at a dangerously fast rate, but I didn't care one bit, because this was it, “That is when I decide that I was going to stay with you forever, and I was never going your leave your side.” I lean back an inch slowly and remove my hand from his, then I get out of my seat as I get the right box from in between my legs and get down in one knee, Sherlock covers his mouth and his shoulders follow my movement. My shaking hands are not helpful right now, but I move past that. I open the box, exposing the golden ring. The ring has one more secret inside it, but I don’t say anything, I want Sherlock to find it. I try to keep my mind blank, as I open my mouth to ask the six words.

“Would you marry me, Sherlock Homes?” I ask with whatever is left of my self secureness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated.


	7. John's turn!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHERLOCK DOES IT..... after John turns a little ermm like me: An emotional mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its such a little chapter. Sorry for the lateness, but Ive been having like three mental breakdowns a day. So u can't imagine the agility I have to fake a smile and type. Anyway, moving past my weird self....I love ya'll. I hope you like it.

“Bloody hell! John!” Sherlock shouts angrily in between all the people around us cheering and applauding and slams his hand on the table. The crowd goes silent, and so do I. My whole body freezes. My heart went from a motor to a corpse’. My mind collapses. Sherlock is mad, that is for sure, his face turns red; its not the type of red I like. ‘What do I say?! What do I do?!’ 

“Sher….” I try to say something, anything really. But my voice betrays me and Sherlock just instantly grabs his coat and stands up from his chair. I am still on my knees, frozen in time and reality. He just walks past me; with every step he takes I feel my world crashing down, and the farther he goes, the closer I am to end myself. But I quickly take control of my almost-dead body and stand up. I close the ring box and take out my wallet. The meal couldn’t have been more than 50 dollars. As I am to leave this place that will soon be the place of my nightmares, I catch a glimpse of Sherlock’s wallet on his chair. The memory of him in my embrace, aching his wallet comes back to memory. ‘Why did he needed so much? If he was just going to leave?!’ I think harshly as I put into my back pocket and walk out the restaurant. I really thought he was the one. The one I was going to grow old with. All the ‘I love you’s and all the amazing orgasm we’ve shared, mean nothing to him?! But… but…he swore he was going to stay by my side forever. Why would he run away?! Sherlock Holmes, my friend, my lover, my whole solar system; just denied my proposal to seal our future together. I guess that is what he wanted. He has no feelings, he is just a bloody high functioning sociopath, who doesn’t know where is the limit line. But he was the one for me… I felt it every time we folded hands and all the times our eyes connected. I am willing to die uncountable time. He is my Sherlock and I am his John. Without him, I have nothing on to hang on… I have become so attached to him, to the point that if he is not with me, I am capable of ending myself. I have nothing on to live for. A tear falls down my cheek leaving a tail on the side of my eye, I move my hand to clean off the physical evidence of my internal suffering. The light sky has turned to a dark night; sometimes the weather is perfect in reflecting how one is feeling. ’I need to find Sherlock.’ I think after the storm of thought has calm the tides a little. ‘I need to know why Sherlock ran away and left me half dead on one knee.’ I repeat in my mind. 

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, “Sherlock!” I call out his name. No response. By the time I get to the hotel lobby, I shout, “Sherlock” for the hundredth time. My throat starts to become weak and hurtful. The hundredth tear flows down the same path the others have gone. I walk towards one of the sofas in the lobby and sit down heavily. I’ve walked for about four miles; my feet are aching and I’m wet; but worse of all, my heart is no longer beating, it has dropped out of my body, shatter somewhere inside of me. 

“Why am I even breathing?” I ask myself, with the mere thought of killing myself. I need to space out, to kill my thoughts and if that means killing myself, then let it be so. I stand up from the seat and head towards the elevator; the moment I called it, is the moment it opens its door. 

“Great. One step closer to my suicide.” I whisper under my breath. I enter the elevator for the fifth time this trip and throw the side of my body on the wall. The elevator’s door closes, but I haven’t selected my floor. It takes me a while to realize this, “maybe because Sherlock always does it.” I say to myself, while I stretch my body towards the bottoms. The ride is silence, but the dead-silence type. The elevator doors open and the walls just seem to get longer and longer and longer. My body is practically dragging itself towards the room. Once I finally got to the door, I touched every pocket in my jacket, trying to find the keys. 

“UGH, where is it?” I ask myself, really finished now. 

“John.” I heard a voice from being me. The same voice who left me on one knee, holding our future in our hands. I leave the keys on my pocket, everything has disconnected from my body. All that is able to function is my ears and somewhat of my feet. I slowly turn around, one step at the time, ready to face the man I love but the man who killed me. I am half way to face him, I really need to see his but to I also need to kiss him. I stop just inches from meeting his galaxy eyes, My hand senses the touch of the cold metal in my pocket, the keys.

“John,” Sherlock says again. I swear I can feel the tear on his voice. Turning around towards the door again, giving my back to Sherlock. My whole body feels numb, yet it's moving. Right now, I need some space and a bed, but most importantly I need heroin. I haven’t done heroin in since my military days, and it was only when I couldn’t sleep after witnessing multiple hazard deaths. 

“John please.” Sherlock’s voice cracks. My heart is aching and my chest is exploding. Not the exploding type I love, but the one that makes me want to rip my heart out. I pull the keys out of my pocket and open the door in one fast but aching moment. Two steps and I'm inside our room, I close the door behind me and take a step into our room, towards the bed. When I hear the door open. 

“John—“ Sherlock is about to start a whole lecture about he not being emotionally ready or how I am not the one for him. The thought of this makes me what to shut him up. The sent of his minty and chemical air invades my brain and takes over my body. My brain wastes no more time and throws itself into his arms or chest or anywhere I could get a grip on. Our lips crash together automatically comes back alive, then the spark of fire that is igniting in me. My arms grab on his jacket, needing something to hold on. The softness is what makes me come to earth, the same warmth that welcomed me thousands of time into my save heaven. Sherlock's arms go hard and fast into my back, pulling me into him, holding me close to him. Then move uncontrollably to my nape and then into my hair and goes back down to my lower back. The kiss went from a calming, needy kiss into an uncontrollable, messy and desperate kiss. The first touch of our tongues is the key that made my heart and soul snap something close to coming back alive and restarting. My knees gave up on me, leaving me hanging by what I could hold of Sherlock. But the touch of Sherlock's hands roaming my body and the need of holding us back together made my arms give up as well. Making me fall completely to the floor. The second our lips parted the toughs and memories came back, as so did the response Sherlock gave me to the promise of our future. This was my breaking point. My knees hit the floor almost silenced, and my hands came up to my eyes to hold the tears rushing down my eyes. A couple hours ago I was in this same position, just that this time I was broken, yet alive. My shoulders shake up and down desperate to let out all of my emotions, that I have bear for very long. Sherlock comes down with me, but instead of crying, his arm rests on my shoulder giving me a sense of security. 

“Sherlock” I tried to start venting all my emotions out, but Sherlock’s small kisses on my forehead make me calm down; losing my train of thoughts. I know that I can’t sentimental now that I have him in front of me. I need to pull myself together, just enough to talk at least. I start to feel his hands golfing my face and jawline; he pulls my chin up, but I don’t open my eyes, the gate where my demos could excise. 

“Love, open your eyes.” Sherlock silently said once my waves of sobs calmed and my stagger breathing turned into a more coherent pattered. But I still didn’t open my eyes for I am still scared of what may come out of them. 

“For me.” Sherlock insists, and I may be a little scared he may give up, “Please.” If he is begging is because I know he really needs me to open my eyes. So I do as he wants. I open my eyes slowly and between the water and Sherlock’s beautiful eyes there is something yellow gold and with a circular shape. My words get stuck in my throat and the water in my eyes magically disappear. 

“Wha…what…” I all I could murmur. 

“Yes, John.” Sherlock hides his smile behind the circular golden object. 

“Is that.. that…a…” I start to speak my thoughts. Is that ring?! A proposing ring?! 

“John Watson, would you do me the honor to..” Sherlock’s words start to form in the air like raindrops on roses. 

“YES. YES. YES, oh god Sherlock thousand times yes!!” I shout, interrupting him halfway down his proposal. And I throw myself into him, locking my arms around his neck and pulling him into my lips. 

“Yes.” I kiss him hard on those tasty lips. 

“Yes.” Again and this time I could feel the smile on his face. 

“John, you” I interrupt him with kisses, “didn’t even,” another one, “let me,” I don’t think I can ever stop.

“Finish.” I stop to look at him in the eyes. He has small tears running down his cheeks. I cup my hands on his jawline and pull him in, leaning our foreheads together in the middle. My silence gives him permission to continue and finish. 

“John Watson, would you do me the honor to turn me into Sherlock Watson?” Sherlock’s sweet voice hangs on the air as I wipe down my tears of happiness. I can feel all my problems fading away, focusing all at the moment. Sherlock just asked me to marry him. This is unbelievable! God, I love him so damn much. I move one hand to rub his cheek and he responds by leaning on to my touch. 

“Yes. From now on, you are Sherlock Watson.” I respond slowly and with a smile that I could even see reflected on Sherlock’s eyes. 

“I love you, John Watson Holmes.” Sherlock closes his eyes and lets out a small sob, “What is it, love?” I ask, wondering what is bothering Sherlock. 

“Nothing, love. It's just the mere thought that..” Sherlock starts to explain but stops. I tilt my head to signal that I want to know and he should tell me, “I may have not have your name now if it wasn't for my tremendous love and need for you.” These words hut me deep down, cause I know its true. The question is still hanging behind my all my happiness. 

“Please, don’t mention it right now, there’ll be time for that.” I push the thought out of the way. I want to enjoy the feeling right now and have it in memory for the rest of my life. Sherlock and I share the biggest smile we’ve shared this whole trip. We are still sitting on the floor, loving each other more than ever. Sherlock, without breaking eye contact, grabs my wrist and bring it up near his chest. I know what he is doing and I know I could stop breathing for the excitement. Sherlock grabs the ring next to the wallet on the floor, and looking at me at all times, carefully lifts my ring finger and inserts his ring, all the way to the bottom. My cheeks hurt from all the hard smiling, but I can’t seem to stop. 

“I love you too, Sherlock Watson,” I say, looking down at the ring, then at the love of my life in front of me. I notice Sherlock does have a ring on his finger, even though I got him one, “If you let me, Sherlock.” I start, referring to the last time I asked this. I pull the leather box out of my jacket and open it, revealing the golden ring I had for him, “Sherlock Watson, would you marry me?” Sherlock smiled sweetly and nodded softly. 

“Yes. Yes. YES, of course, my blogger!!!” Sherlock shouted, cupping my face and bringing it up to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutt is around the corner. Excuse my typos PLEASE. I love your kudos and comments.


	8. ok! They are both married now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, ok guys. Its been a BIG while, but I really haven't been in any.....healthy state. Anyway! here it is! I think I may do one last chapter to close the fanfic off. 
> 
> DT: @alphabetmusic for the... descriptive... requirements of this chapter.

I push myself towards to kiss him and he kisses me back sharply, but deeply. The type of kiss that staples us together, not even thinking about separating. Sherlock grabs the back of my head to pull me closer, I automatically let Sherlock grab the most of me and lead me. I shift my legs, preparing them to hold me when I stand up. Sherlock must’ve also felt this so he does the same. I stand up slowly, not parting our kiss, just the small pauses to create space for air in our lungs; preparing us to kiss back harder. Sherlock is up and so I am, he is taking over, and pushes me to walk backward. I know what he wants and it’s exactly what I dread right now. But I notice that I still have the ring on my hands, so I part away from him widely and Sherlock tries to follow my mouth, but then realizes what I am trying to do, so he looks down at the ring and smiles. I bring his wrist up with my arm and grab respectively the ring, preparing it to fit Sherlock’s finger and without a single second of hesitation, I push it all the way down.

“It looks perfect,” Sherlock comments with a smile, looking down at it. 

My eyes don’t need to look down to say, “You look perfect.” My instincts kick in to make Sherlock look perfect under me so I make a sharp turn around, switching positions and power. Now I am the one pushing Sherlock towards the bed of pleasure. We take advantage of the remaining space we have until I throw Sherlock into the bed, so I boastfully pull out any layer of clothing he has on. The jacket, the shirt, and his pants, all on the floor now. Sherlock does the same; now his delicious warming skin is brushing against mine, and Oh God… how I’ve missed him. I harshly push him away from me, on to the bed. He lands on his shoulder, eyes locked with mine. I am still incredibly mad at him. He is going to handle the consequences. 

“You had me suicidal and dangerously mad,” I darkly say, looking down at him. Sherlock’s hold so many emotions at once, it makes me want to turn them into pleasure and ecstasy, “You are gonna have to face the consequences. Love.” My deep voiced makes Sherlock's head fall back into the bed with a little cry. I can’t hold myself back a minute longer; so I dive into his neck, locking him between my legs, and with small use of my hands and teeth, I leave a purple “John’s property” sign on his collar bone.

“What are you going to do John?” Sherlock asks so fucking sensually and breathless already, I may devour him merciless right now, “Sherlock.” I pause to form a little suspense, “I am going to break you apart.” I confess slowly and determined.

“John…” Sherlock moans at the thought. He knows what is about to happen to him, which is why he doesn’t complain or continues to distract me from my amazing procedure. He lets out a small cry when I slowly move my hand all the way down to his thigh, ready to make him shiver. I want to make Sherlock cry out and beg and scream and worship my name for the pain he made me go through. Sliding my hand, touching his warm and sensible skin with my fingertips and tentantly move into his inter tight.

“John… please.” Sherlock gasps. My mouth parts from his neck, and raises to his ear murmuring, “Giving you a warning love,” kissing him deeply in his ear; I can almost feel his hairs on his nape standing up, and his skin sending shiver across his arm and the rest of his delicious body, “I am going to tease you out.” Sherlock lets out a growl followed by a deep moan. My fingertips keep exploring in between his thighs, making his leg shake, just like I want. Sherlock lets out a growl as his thick, beautiful cock gets hard by my touch. I let out the monster hiding in my throat, making my voice gravelly and unmistakeable aroused as I say, “I want to see your pretty face fall apart,” Sherlock’s head takes an instant move to look at me properly, I know I have his attention and I mean to make the best of it. I move closer to him and whisper deeply, “inch by inch,” He doesn’t respond, but my need of being inside him takes over me and leads me to strata going lower and lower on his body. I kiss his neck, down into his collar bone, lower to his chest and arriving at my first destination.

“John..ahh... your voice...” Sherlock's mouth drops open as I start to move my tongue against his nipples in different ways I know Sherlock can't imagine. His hands slip into my hair, intertwining his fingers into my scalp pushing me down, deeper into his skin. I don’t linger too much there, because I need to feel Sherlock do flips under me. 

“Sherlock, I AM going to make you cry out, at LEAST twelve times,” I say more to his skin than his face.

"More John... Much more..." Sherlock moans softly, throwing his head back into the mattress; I work my way down and lower on his body. With every kiss, I drop Sherlock becomes hotter and more sensible. I reach his defined abs, I know this labyrinth by heart. The six packs of strong muscle, followed by the other, move up and down dramatically, as I kiss the lines of defiance. Sherlock's hands are another world as they roam around my back, and leaves his marks of conquering. The sweet pain encourages me to continue moving, never stopping. I promise Sherlock I was going to tease him out, but I am not satisfied with what I have done so far. So, as my final tease, I part from his skin and form a small hole with my lips, then I push cool air against his hot skin. I know he loves this, mostly when it's around his erection. 

"John!" Sherlock almost screams to the feeling. I know that is not a scream of pain, but of massive pleasure. Letting out a small laugh, I continue working my path down. Sherlock's hands now only reach up to my head, leaving him with little of me to hang on. I finally reach his harden cock, with pre-come spreading at the top. Taking one look up at Sherlock, I find him looking down at me with his do-it-and-do-it-good eyes, along with his I-love-you smile; Just enough to encourage me to take him in. My hand takes hold of his hips to steady him, as I open my mouth and engulf him in me. 

"Hmmhmmh..." Sherlock deep voice moans. Descending slowly into him, his cock filling me in and my head filling Sherlock in. I reach the bottom and start to go up again, but now I want to make Sherlock cry and moan so loud, so much that the people next door knows I am braking him down. My tongue wraps as a second layer to him, only that this layer, is controlled by me and does what I want it to do. My mouth reaches his head again and my tongue doesn’t stop playing and moving around Sherlock’s masterpiece. I bob my head like this two more time, slowly, as promised to torture Sherlock slowly but sweetly. My next movement, adds a little extra, when I reach the bottom again, I hum loudly against him, sending strong vibrations up Sherlock’s body. 

“John…” Sherlock repeats again, this time his moan was deeper and hotter. I need to hear his again, so I move a little faster up and down his cock, "John...Oh god…” Sherlock repeats. I want to hear him again, but this time he needs to be way louder, and the only way to do this is to make him walk up one more step on his stair to orgasm. My mouth detaches from his delicious cock with a small pop at the end and sends a cool small wind on his warm skin again. 

“Ok, ok John… please,” Sherlock begs in his pleading voice. I know he may run up the stairs of his orgasm if I keep teasing. I don’t need to answer. My stare says all the words my throat has trapped. Crawling upon him, making my own path up his labyrinth. I stop when our lips are one inch apart, breathes the same air. Eyes locked and the time freezes. We are both breathless already, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part. His lips are so perfectly wet and open, my mouth automatically says, “I’m going to show you how to use that mouth correctly.” I smile darkly and Sherlock smiles sexually, inviting me in. Without missing a beat, I dive into his mouth. Licking around the wetness of his bow-shaped lips and manipulating his tongue in all shapes and forms; soft moans in between each dominance, along with hands roaming everywhere, touching and pressing harder, symbolizing for more and more and harder and faster. Sherlock's hand moves for my ass to the bottom of the pillow and takes out the green tube. He hands me it and I take it in one fast motion, still kissing. We stop and I sit up on Sherlock, trying to open the bottle. Sherlock looks so damn perfect under me, breathless and simply marked as mine. His hands land on my thighs and slowly start to move around, exploring the sensitive skin. 

“Sherlock!” I gasp. His touch is making it so hard for me to open the damn bottle of lube, “This is going to spill, Sherlock.” I warn while laughing, trying to distract myself. Sherlock doesn’t reciprocate my laugh, but he does stop touching. As soon as I successfully open the bottle, I look down at Sherlock. His eyes are wild and his lips parted asking for more, sweat dripping down the side of his perfect face. His curls weak, but defined hang down on his face. 

“You look absolutely perfect,” I say slowly. This time Sherlock does smile but it doesn’t last long. I start to growing concern as to why doesn’t his lip extant permanently into a big smile. Sherlock, as always, reads my mind and whine, “John! You know I can’t show two emotions right now!” I laugh a little at his comment, which is actually pretty true. My eyes worry a little less, which gives me a lift into what I was going to do. I pour some lube into my palm and rub it with my two hands to warm it up. Throwing the bottle, on a side of the bed and shifting my way for my fingers to reach Sherlock’s hole and my other hand on his hip. Sherlock is already crying out loud at the first contact of my finger circling the area. The first finger goes in and the hotness along with the moans Sherlock lets out of his mouth, only encourages me to go at a more faster rate. I know it burns, so I keep in a semi-fast rate. I know when it’s time to add another finger when Sherlock’s hands grab strong on to the blanket on his side. Two fingers make Sherlock’s head trow back and moan my name very loud. I add another, final finger; making Sherlock cry out, “John! Oh.. God” as I hit his prostate on the first try. His whole back arches on the bed. I really can’t hold back anymore, and I'm sure neither can Sherlock. He is now, basically an incoherent mess and I haven’t even completely entered him. 

“Sherlock… ahh... I can’t hold anymore..” I breathlessly moan. Sherlock is stuffed with a lot of… me to respond. But he nods his head; I slip out my fingers and he lets out a soft moan. Grabbing hold under his knees and pulling them up to my shoulders, “John?!” Sherlock lets out a warning and a concerning tone. This position pushes me to sit up straight and for Sherlock's lips to be very far away from mine. But as soon as I get up on my knees, my cock is already directed to enter Sherlock, and OH GOD I have never been more exciting to do so. The first push enter and Sherlock actually starts to say absolutely nonsenses. I almost fall on him by the amazing burning sensation, but I need to stay put and stand strong for Sherlock. I start with a slow pace but even though the pace is awfully delicious and torturous, Sherlock is so damn close and so am I. 

“Sherlock… oh god! I can’t….” I moan into the air, and Sherlock just keeps doing delicious flips and grabbing sexually on the bedsheets, his head town back into the pillow and his back arched every time I hit his prostate. It only takes me a couple more trusts for Sherlock to trip on his own stairs and come flat on his stomach. I follow him close, my voice deepens and rumbles when I come hard inside him. My weak bones and muscles warn me that if I don’t lay down fast, I will fall on Sherlock. So I lay down my fiancé’s leg softly on the bed and carefully come out of his body. Sherlock gives a small gasp when I am finally out of him, and I slowly fall next to him. Sherlock takes the responsibility to grab a water bottle next to him and spill some on his shirt to clean up our mess. 

“Jesus! Sherlock, you were so damn perfect.” I say, catching my breath. Sherlock is throwing his shirt across the room and turns around to face me. His ocean eyes and his perfect bow lips are in front of me and it is impossible to kiss him. This kiss was slow and passionate, very different from the ones we have a battle before. His tongue is gentle and possessing. 

“All for you, John Holmes,” Sherlock responds and all my senses go fire. OH, how I LOVE that name. Sherlock takes me into his embrace and coves us up with the used blankets. I know there is still MUCH to talk about, but for now, I need sleep and I know Sherlock would also need it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yea, its kinda short, but... I hope it was good.)  
> I love kudos and comments


	9. Finish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, short and sweet. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Love y'all.

My eyes are very pleased to see the perfect features of Sherlock’s face in front of me. His blue-greenish eyes staring deep into mines. I wonder how long he has been looking at me. I find that I don’t really care, as long as I am the only one he looks at. 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Sherlock whispers into my face. I love him so much right now to not kiss him. I feel his hand laying on my waist, starting to move upwards slowly into my face, and rubs his thumb on my cheekbones. Our lips press against each other’s, sending a shiver down my body. A smile grows on both our faces, we lean our foreheads against each other. His lips recall the memories of yesterday, the heat, the love, and the determination; it invades my body with pure happiness and satisfaction. But then, I remember what happened a couple hours before we devour each other in this very bed, and my smiles fade. Sherlock knows what is about to happen, so his smile leaves also; leaving us both is a serious mood. 

“We need to talk, Sherlock,” I say seriously. His eyes dart all around the room but my eyes. My brain tries to get the words together while Sherlock finishes avoiding my eyes. His body is entirely pressed against mine, our legs on the other’s and our arms embracing the heat in between us. But Sherlock doesn’t move away from me when I open up the conversation, which shows me he is determined and serious about this. The words have now come together inside my head and are on the tip of my mouth; I wait until his eyes meet mine, but they don’t; So I stretch my arm to push his cheek smoothly to face me. Our eyes lock and I know this is the time, “Why did you leave me on one knee?” The words taste bitter and unreal. Nothing like Sherlock would do, but my brain reassures he has and he hurt me deeply. For a second I think I see a tear forming on the corner of his eye. To make him know that it's ok to tell me and he should explain this to me, I land a soft, quick kiss on his lips. 

“I was going to propose first,” Sherlock starts whispering, “I had a really anxious day because I wanted everything to be perfect. The simplest thing would trigger an attack that would lead to…” Sherlock stops to take a breath and to let everything sink in, “run away somewhere I could…” Sherlock finishes with a small hanging, in the end, leaving me intrigued to know where he would go if what. But I know this must be hard to explain, so I let him leave me hanging.

“It’s alright, love.” I kiss his forehead, Sherlock wraps his hands around my waist a little tighter, like trying to hold himself together against me. My hand laying in his back go up to his morning curls and pull him closer to me. We hold each other for a couple m minutes, in the comfortable silence. His smell is really invasive and manipulating, the woody, chemicals scent takes me back to our home in London. 221B Baker Street. My skin absorbs the two tears that fall from Sherlock's eyes, I hate to see him suffer like this; I have to say something to make him forget and calm down.

“Hey love,” I say softly pulling my face away from him, “Today is our last day here. What do you want to do?” I ask. Sherlock looks up at me, grateful I changed the topic. He thinks for a couple of minutes and responds, “It doesn’t matter love. As long as I am here with you, NOTHING matters.” A small laugh escapes my lips and makes my body shake. I stop slowly and answer paused, “Yes, love. Me too.” There is no more trace of tears or sadness or regret on his face; only love and secureness. Our lips meet one more time. 

“Are you ready for our new start?” I ask when we part apart. 

“Never been more ready,” Sherlock responds with a BIG kiss. I know I can’t stop loving him and this new adventure we are about to embrace would be the best one of our life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So how was it?.... any fanfic ideas you would like to read? I really enjoyed writing this. My first fanfic, has ben AMAZING and thanks to all of you guys... it's been just perfect. Stay tune or more fanfic. 
> 
> I live for your comments and kudos.


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